


His Favorite Color Scheme

by MaybeMyth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bartender Keith, Biker AU, Biker Keith, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Blow Jobs, Fluff, Keith is raised by Thace and Ulaz, Kinda slow burn but not really cause lets be real, Kolivan is basically his grandpa, Love at First Sight, M/M, Marmora is a biker gang, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Rough Oral Sex, SHEITH - Freeform, Smut, Voltron is a biker gang, and The Galra is a biker gang, biker shiro, mechanic keith, the rebels are a biker gang, they're so soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 15:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13391145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeMyth/pseuds/MaybeMyth
Summary: Black Hair and Red Leather, His Favorite Color Scheme.Aka the Biker Au! that no one but me probably cares about.





	1. Street Race

Shiro’s on his way home from work. He’s at a stop light in the quite side of town. His cruiser is humming below him, ready to get going. He’s ready to go home after a long, complicated day of work. He’s tired and sore. He wants nothing more then to go home, kick his feet up on the coffee table and relax on his couch with a nice cold beer in one hand, and the Netflix remote in the other. Take his heavy steel toed boots off, and drop his old leather jacket on his kitchen counter. God, he can picture it in his head, and he’s so anxious to get there already, and this light is lasting forever.

Then all of a sudden, another motorcycle pulls up next to him. A crotch-rocket. A sports bike built for speed. Painted flat black, made small and thin. It’s rider is just the same; lean, sleek, and covered in black. Black doc martins, black jeans, black leather fingerless gloves, sleek black helmet hiding their hair and face. The only visible skin Shiro can peak is that of his fingers, and his neck, and what he sees is pale and soft. The only color on the mysterious rider next to me is that of the deep red leather jacket he wears. The curiosity that strikes down on him makes him shiver.

The flat black surface of the helmet shifts towards him, and Shiro finds himself staring into another dark, glossy visor. Despite not being able to see the strangers face, he knows there’s a smirk hiding behind that helmet. The guy, Shiro assumes, nods to him, and then revs his engine. Initiating a challenge that usually Shiro would ignore without second thought.

But for some reason, his heart is revving up just as much as the others engine. Shiro’s never been a fan of street races. He thinks they’re stupid, pointless, and dangerous, but when he’s staring into that black visor, he doesn’t hesitate to agree to it.

A second after, the light turns to green, and both of them are off. The strangers’ little crotch-rocket is built with a higher capacity for speed then Shiro’s old, classic cruiser. He zips past Shiro, and the few other cars. He weaves through traffic with absolute ease, and in a way that Shiro doesn’t think he’s ever had the skill, or confidence to do. Within in seconds, he’s miles ahead, with Shiro desperately trying to keep up, trying to at least keep his eyes on that red leather. Any thoughts about going home to relax fly away in the wind as he picks up his speed, only caring about wherever it his stranger is leading him. He get’s led all the way to down town, just barely managing to keep red in his line of sight. When he hits main street, he starts to lose track of him in the crowds of cars and people. He freezes at one of the stop signs, looking around, trying to catch any glimpse of the guy. At the end of the street, he swears he sees a flash of red leather, so he follows it.

He’s not sure why, he’s not sure he’s even really thinking. Shiro’s apartment is in the opposite direction. He lives twenty minutes from main street. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, or why he’s following some mysterious biker in a red leather jacket. All he knows is that he can’t stop. He’s already parking his bike outside of the mechanic shop that sits on the end of the block. His feet are leading him inside before he even realizes it.

“Can I help you?” Inside the garage there’s a tall man, with sharp features, lightly tanned skin, and harsh golden eyes. He’s lean, but muscular, no doubt. His hair is thick, black, and poofs out a bit at the sides. With thick eyebrows, and a chiseled jaw, and a bit of stubble on his chin. Over all, he’s a very intimidating man. But he’s not who Shiro is looking for. The guy on the crotch-rocket was short and thinner. His shoulders weren’t quite as wide, and his skin was paler. Not to mention this guy was wearing black sweatpants and a gray tank-top, no red leather jacket in sight.

“Uh, Im looking for someone?” He asks, but he feels like he’s asking himself more than anyone else. He looks around the shop, but it’s empty of all other human life. He doesn’t see the crotch-rocket either.

“Im the only person here at the moment” The guy says, and Shiro nods. He thinks he sees a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns, there’s nothing there but a dark window into an office room.

“Did you maybe happen to see a guy walk by? Red leather jacket?” Shiro tries, turning his attention back to who he figures is the shop owner.

“Sorry, but no” He shakes his head. Shiro feels his heart drop down to his stomach, as if someone tied an anchor to it.

“Oh, alright… Uh, thanks anyway, I guess. Sorry for bothering you” He apologizes to the guy, and turns around on his heel, heading back out to his motorcycle. Climbing onto his cruiser feels painfully slow, and he clutches at the handle bars, feeling strangely empty.

Suddenly, that idea of relaxing on his couch alone doesn’t sound as good.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Keith is a tad addicted to danger. He likes speed. He likes the feeling of his sports bike humming beneath him as he pushes close to max speed. He likes to race, likes to get his heart racing. He likes the rush it brings him.

So when Keith hits a stop light on his way to work, and pulls up next to a big guy on a sleek black cruiser, he can’t help but rev his engine and challenge the guy. Thankful that the guy accepts, Keith doesn’t waste any time to blast off the second the light turns in their favor. He leaves the other rider in the dust. It’s all to easy to lose him, and Keith feels the fire burning in his stomach at his victory.

However, that fire turns to ice when he hits main street, and he realizes that the guy is actually still behind him.  He books it down main street as fast as he legally can, and without hitting any pedestrians, and brings his bike around the back. He parks kitty, his crotch-rocket, and barrels through the back door of the garage, slamming directly into his adopted father as he does so.

“Woah, easy there you little hell cat, what’s the rush?” Thace chuckles, studying himself, and Keith.

“Hide me” He squeaks. His father’s suddenly sighs, placing both hands on Keiths shoulders.

“Did you get in another street fight?”

“Race”

“So road rage?”

“I didn’t think so, I left the guy in dust in under five seconds, but he followed me all the way here” Thace sighs in annoyance. He’s used to this by now, surely. He’s known Keith since he was a baby, and he’s been raising him since he was six. He knows how Keith is. He’s had to pull his adoptive son out of the fire plenty of times. This is nothing new to him, he’s probably just wishing Keith would grow up a bit by now. Seeing as he is almost 25.

“Go hide under the office desk” He squeezes Keiths shoulders, before pushing him off in the direction of the sectioned off office. The sound of cruiser sliding into a parking spot out front reaches his ears as Keith ducks into the dark room, and crouches below the desk.

“Can I help you?” He hears his fathers voice, but it’s a bit deeper than usual, more protective.

“Uh, im looking for someone?” he hears another, deep voice. It’s smooth but it’s not steady. It hesitant, like he’s not sure what he’s doing, or what he’s looking for. Keith isn’t sure what he’s thinking when he leans up just a tiny bit to look out of the office window. He wants to see the guy. Want’s to have a face to match that voice, to match the memory. He’s a bit shocked by what he finds.

Keith honestly wasn’t paying much attention when he pulled up next to the guy on the street. He didn’t really care to. All he saw was another bike, which to him meant the potential for a challenge, and that’s all he cared about at the time. Now…Well now that he’s seen him, he wishes he took the chance to admire him sooner. He might have left him behind like that if he’d known he was this hot.

The guy standing across from his father is tall, probably about 6’1 or 6’2, with wide shoulders and a square jaw. Black hair styles in an undercut, with a little fluff of forelock died white. There’s a deep scar running over the bridge of his nose to his cheeks, and he’s got intense gray eyes that make Keith shiver. He’s wearing nice black boots, black jeans, a thick black and white flannel, and black leather gloves hiding large hands, and _by god those biceps_. The thought alone of what muscles like that could do to him has Keith contemplating coming out his hiding. Then he realizes that those muscles are probably there to punch him in the gut, and he quickly decides against it. He sees the guy start shifting his head in his direction, so he quickly ducks down behind the table again.

“im the only one here at the moment” He hears Thace say.  He hears the guy ask about him, pointing out his red leather jacket, and Keith feels his heart start hammering away in his chest.

“Sorry, but no” Thace covers for him, and Keith sighs in release.

“Oh, alright… Uh, thanks anyway, I guess. Sorry for bothering you” The guy sounds… He sounds disappointed… something about that doesn’t settle right with Keith.

He eases himself off the ground, and watches the guy walk back to his cruiser. Keiths feels dizzy, he feels like his heart is ready to collapse, and it doesn’t make any sense to him at all. He feels like he should follow him, should go after him, stop him, talk to him, do something. But he’s frozen to his spot, not able to do anything but watch him walk away.


	2. Cafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really much of a chapter, just a little scene I couldnt get out of my freaking head.  
> Reminder that I do take requests, so if there's anything you wanna see in this au, feel free to toss some ideas at me! I do already have a couple ideas for where to take this though
> 
> follow me, or talk to me, over on tumblr @ https://gaythoughtsandfeelings.tumblr.com/

Shiro doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why he suddenly stops in the middle of the road so suddenly. He doesn’t know why he makes a sharp u-turn the first chance he gets, or why he pulls into his favorite coffee shop, even though he’d already gotten coffee this morning. He doesn’t have any reasonable explanation for any of that. Shiro just barely catches sight of the sleek black crotch rocket parked in front of the little café, and his mind instantly went into auto-pilot. Before he knew it, he was in the shop, looking around, eyes scanning everywhere for red leather.  His feet thud against the white tile, walking through the back of the café. He scans all the workers behind the counter, and all the customers. There’s two girls behind the counter, even if Shiro wasn’t sure that his red leathered mystery was a guy, he would dismiss them anyway. One is too thin, the other too tall. There’s not many customers either. An elderly couple in one booth, a group of five, sleep deprived looking college kids, and a few random others here and there, but none of them looked like they could be the street racer he ran into the other week.

Shiro sighs in disappointment, he turns to the girls behind the counter, letting them know he was just looking for someone, knowing he probably looked a little weird, and then he dismisses himself. As he returns to his own motorcycle, He glares long and hard at that black sports bike, as if he was silently begging it to give him some answers.

_Where is your owner?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been a long night. Keith was at the bar until about four in the morning. Not having fun, no, cleaning. See, Keiths adopted father Ulaz owns the mechanic shop on one end of main street, and his other adopted father, Thace, owns a small bar on the other end of main. All three of them, including some other family friends, tend to rotate their jobs. So half the week, Keith helps in the shop, the other half he spends the night bartending, or being a bouncer. He doesn’t work both jobs for the money, the salary from one alone is enough for him to get by on. He works both for the sake of his parents. They need the help, and he likes being with them. As a kid, Keith admittedly was a bit afraid of growing up and growing apart from them. He also feels like he owes it to them. They adopted Keith when he was so little, they raised him like he was their own, with so much love and kindness and they always gave him everything he needed. They were good parents, they did a lot for him. So, he always does his best to give back to them. Working for them, working with them, is just one good way too.

Not to mention he actually enjoys doing both jobs.

So, anyway, Keith spent the bartending, and he should have been able to go home a little past two AM, you know, when the bar closed? But of course, at last call, some a-holes just had to get into a huge fight. Keith had to talk to the police, and then he had to spend a whole hour cleaning up glass, blood and booze from the floors. He crashed the night at his dad’s house after that, since it was closer. They live in a cozy three-bedroom home, only ten-minute drive away from main street, which is super nice and close, compared to Keith, who lived in a shitty apartment on the other side of town, a good thirty minutes away. He crashed in his old bedroom for the night, and in the morning, he left for home.

However, Keith decided to stop in at a little café for some coffee first. Which was a huge mistake. Within a minute of him sitting down, he sees a black cruiser driving by through the window. He knows instantly it’s the guy from a while ago. The one who followed him all the way to the garage. He thinks he’s fine, and safe, but then he realizes the guy is making a u-turn and his stomach twists.

He watches in utter fear as the guy parks right next to his own bike, and yanks his helmet off. Keith is once again shocked by how attractive the guy is. Strong jaw, thick eyebrows, stunning gray eyes. A black undercut with a tuft of white at the forelock, a bright gaping scar running over the bridge over his knows and those biceps. Holy shit, Keith has had dreams of every kind about those biceps. The guy is ripped, and honestly, Keith doesn’t think any description could possibly do him justice.

He gets so caught up in admiring the guy through the glass, that he almost forgot that the guy was probably coming in to confront him.

Oh shit. He realizes, and just before the guy opens the door, his brain finally catches up, and he bolts for the bathroom. The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against the wall next to it, letting out a deep breath. That was fucking close. He can’t believe the guy would turn around and come looking for him. Is he that mad about the street race? He didn’t look that mad that day in the shop, but why the hell else would he be looking for Keith? He’s no risking it, it’s better safe then bruised.

He waits in the bathroom for a couple minutes, before sticking his head out, and glancing around. When he sees that the guy is gone, he exits, collects his stuff, and heads home.

 

It’s that night, after a very, very long nap, that Keith wakes up to a couple texts from his buddy Matt. Texts he would most certainly come to regret as well.

 

**Rebel Love:  Dude when is ur next day off?**

_Next Saturday, why?_

**Cuz u havent hung out w/ me in ages + I got someone I want u to meet.**

_No thanks_

**R00d**

**Just go bar hopping with me sat**

_Matt, the last thing I want to do after working at a bar all week, is go to more bars_

**There is a big difference between making and serving drinks, and actually getting to drink them. Just come hang out, you big emo baby.**

Keith knows Matt is being serious when he uses some actual grammar in his texts.

_Fine, but if im still bored after the first hour, I am ditching you._

**Yasss! I’ll take it!**

Keith felt like he could hear Matts weird victory screech from across town.


	3. Admire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is gonna be the literal end of Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt expect this to get as much as attention as it has?? Thank you so much??  
> Friendly reminded that I do take requests for this au, and you can talk to me on tumblr @ Gaythoughtsandfeelings

Two days after the café incident is the next time Shiro see’s that same black crotch rocket. He’s at a stoplight, waiting patiently for the light to turn, when he notices that little sports bike parked on the street. His eyes watch it carefully, and then they trail up the side walk, praying desperately to find the owner. What he finds, makes his whole body short circuit.

At the crosswalk, standing just under the light, is the physical embodiment of Shiro’s desire.

Cherry red doc martins, tight black pants clinging to long, slender legs, loose black tank top and a lean torso hiding under beautiful vintage red leather. Feathery black hair cascading down a pale neck, framing high cheek bones. Both hands bound in fingerless, leather gloves. One hand gripping at a familiar black helmet, the other holding up a cell phone, the most brilliant of violet eyes glare down at the screen, and plush lips are wrapped around a Lolli-pop. Shiro doesnt think he's ever seen someone so attractive. He's literally everything he every looks for, the complete definition of his type and more. He's undeniably gorgeous, and it makes Shiro’s senses become dull as he gets his first real look at the guy, every inch of his brain is dedicated to focusing on the man just a couple feet away from him. 

The light changes, and Shiro watches painfully, his whole chest burning, as his feet glide across the pavement. When he approaches closer, and seems to notice he’s being watched, he turns to look at Shiro with wide eyes. But then the shock and confusion quickly fades, and is replaced with a fiery, devious look.

He shoves his phone away in his pocket, and as he passes directly in front of Shiro, he pulls the sucker out his mouth with an audible, exaggerated pop, gives it a slow lick, and winks in Shiro’s direction.

 It’s a challenge, Shiro realizes. A dare. Just like the day that red leathered devil pulled up next to him on his bike, and silently prompted a race.

Somehow this challenge seems a lot more dangerous then a street race.

Shiro is too busy admiring the guy from behind, the way his boots hit the ground with such confidence and stability, admiring the way those jeans hug his legs _, his ass_. Admiring the way his hair falls against the collar of his jacket, the way dark black lays over and clashes with the bright red. Too busy admiring the mystery boy that seems to be haunting him now. Too busy admiring to notice that the light has changed once again, to his favor, and there are cars behind him, honking at him in anger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this point, Keith thinks that the universe is taunting him. He’s trying to cross the street one day, when he spots him again. That dangerously gorgeous guy on the black cruiser. He was on his side of the street, way up by the light. Which meant Keith would have to cross in front of him. For a second, Keith contemplated changing his route for something safer, but then he decided ‘Fuck it’, and he went for it.

He doubted the guy was going to get off his bike, and deck him right there in the middle of the road, so he decided he had nothing to fear.

He strode across that cross walk with the utmost confidence, until he realized how intently the guy was staring at him. He started getting nervous, but then something clicked in his mind.

 Keith can just barely see his face behind his helmet, but he can tell that his eyes are carefully racking over every inch of him as he walks. If Keith didn’t know better, he’d swear the guy was eye-fucking him. Upon this realization, he went from shock, to confusion, until something ignited in his gut, and a strange form of determination settled over him.

He regained his confidence, and his pride, and when he came to cross directly in front of the guy, looking well-defined and like a classic bad boy from a 90’s movie in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, he got a bit daring.

 He pulled the lolli-pop he had been sucking on from his mouth and gave it a playful lick as he looked right at the guy, before giving him a quick wink. He felt pretty victorious as he walked away, the feeling of eyes still firmly planted on his backside, and the sound of car horns blaring behind him.

 

But now it’s his turn to stare.

 The very next day, Keith’s going for a morning ride, when he spots the guy going for a jog. Keith doesn’t understand how someone could look so good in ratty sweatpants and a sweaty tank top, but god damnit, this guy did it. He doesn't look real, he looks more like something out of a movie as he swiftly jogs down the side-walk.

Keith is on the other side of the mainly empty road, driving towards the guy, and he spots him from a distance. Keith nearly crashes his fucking bike into a pole when he sees him, so he settles for slowly coming to stop, and pulling up along the side. He watches the guy for a second from across the street. Watching his muscles move, glistening with sweat. If Keith thought he was muscular before, he was wrong. This guy is ripped. The generously thin, hastily cut tank top, that Keith is so very grateful for right now, attests to that. What Keith also can’t help but notice is the glistening chunk of smooth metal that seems to make up the guys right arm. The prosthetic meets all the way up to the guys bicep, metal connecting to human flesh in an array of tangled scars. Keiths stomach clenches, and a weird mix of curiosity and lust starts to burn in his gut.

As the guy gets closer, Keith can see the look of tight concentration on his face, and the determined look in those stunning gray eyes. The way the white tuft of hair has been matted back with sweat but there’s this pure, content smile on his lips and Keith’s heart flutters. No one should look that good while working out. No one should look that good in general.

Again, feeling a bit brave, Keith yanks off his helmet, brings his fingers to his lips, and lets out a low whistle of admiration. One of those classic, teasing, ‘cat-calling’ whistles. He’s never actually done that before, but nothing seemed to fit the moment better.

The guy’s head whips around to find Keith, and when he does, Keith can see those bright silver eyes going wide, and then it’s his turn to nearly crash into a pole.

Keith laughs, once again feeling victorious, before pulling his helmet back on.

_Keith: 2, Hot buff guy: 0_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter! Please let me know what you think! Comments mean the world to me!
> 
> Friendly reminded that I do take requests for this au, and you can talk to me on tumblr @ Gaythoughtsandfeelings


	4. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith just wants to have a smoke, and Shiro's making that kind of difficult....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy~

“Man, this sucks!” Matt groans in disappointment, trying to talk to Shiro over the loud music. But Shiro isn’t paying much attention. He’s focused on blocking out the crowd, and the ice-cold drink matt has just slipped into his hand.  It’s the second drink he’s had, and it’s already too many. Shiro’s Friday night plans didn’t originally consist of going bar hoping, he was going to curl up on his couch and watch something on Netflix, but matt had called him up about an hour ago and had absolutely insisted they go out.  So here Shiro is, sitting in a cramped booth, surrounded by his friends who have had far too many drinks, and slowly cherishing his coke and whiskey.

“I could have sworn Keith was scheduled to work tonight, I wanted you to meet him” Matt grumbles, downing another quarter of his beer.

“Guess I mixed up his schedule, you’ll see him tomorrow though” Shiro nods in agreement, admittedly not knowing what it is he’s agreeing to as he brings his cold glass to his lips.

“Oh” He hears Matt suddenly hum “Oh, hello” He gives a low whistle of appreciation before scrambling out of his seat to cross the room. Without having to really look, Shiro knows he’s found someone he finds attractive, and has rushed off to make his move, which means it’s the perfect time for Shiro to step out for some air. He excuses himself, sets down his glass, and pushes through the crowd to the nearest exit. The second he steps out the backdoor, and the cold night air hits his skin, he sighs in relief. Shiro surprisingly isn’t much of a people person, he doesn’t like crowds. He can deal with them well, but he’d prefer not to.

“Yeah, Im on my way” Shiro hears the quite mumble of words in the distance, and he follows them. Around the bend of the building, in the tiny, side lot meant for reserved parking, Shiro finds something that makes his night instantly better.

There in the back, leaning against the wall, is none other than Shiro’s mystery object of affection in shinning red leather. Shiro watches in absolute fascination as the guy shoves his cell-phone away into his pocket, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, he takes out one single stick, and tosses it between his lips before shoving the case into his back pocket. He digs around in his front pocket a bit, then reaches up to light the cigarette.

“That’s a pretty nasty habit you’ve got there” Shiro calls out to him, alerting the other man of his presence, and stopping him dead in his tracks. Rusty zippo lighter frozen in hand, hovering inches away from his mouth.

“So, I’ve been told” He grumbles, his eyes shifting over to Shiro as he shoves the light back in his pocket.

“If you know it’s bad for you, why do you do it?” Shiro asks, stepping off the back step to get a bit closer. His heavy boot makes a loud, slapping sound as it hits the pavement below, breaking the cold silence of the air. A friendly reminder of just how alone they are out here.

“Keeps me sane, helps me keep my focus” it’s a short, curt answer. Shiro hums in thought, taking another step forward.

“Im sure there are plenty of things that can help keep your focus, healthier things” He lectures, and for a second, all Shiro receives for an answer is this look. This look that makes Shiro hunger. He raises on eyebrow, bright violet eyes burning with a certain intensity that he can’t possibly describe, as his teeth worry on his lower lip for a split second, cigarette now clenched in hand.

“Tell you what” he breaths out, and it draws Shiro in another step closer. “You give me one good reason not to light this” he holds the cig up, but Shiro’s more focused on the little smirk that’s pulling at the corners of soft, plush lips. “and I mean a good reason, one I’ve never heard before. And I’ll toss it” The proposition, no, the challenge, sends a spark down Shiro’s spine. A new form of confidence rushes over his body when the other leans off the wall, placing a gloved hand on his hip. He’s starting to see an opportunity here. An opportunity to finally fulfil his recent plague of daydreams and get his revenge for being hung out to dry the last two times he’s seen his mystery crush, at the same time.

Shiro’s trying to formulate a plan of action to get the most out of the moment, but when the guys tongue darts out to wet his lip, eyes sparkling with mischief, Shiro’s mind goes blank, and his whole body shifts over into auto-pilot mode.

In seconds, the gap between them is closed, and Shiro’s got one hand up against the wall, arm shooting right past a leather clad shoulder, unintentionally boxing him in from one side.

“If you’ve got that in your mouth, I won’t be able to kiss you” he gives his reason, voice low and as suggestive as he can possibly make it, giving his own proud grin, just as the others falls.

Shiro doesn’t miss the sound of the paper roll-up hitting the cement ground.

That’s enough of an answer for him, so his right hand, his prosthetic hand, surges forward, gripping at a slender waist to draw the man in forward. He hears a tiny gasp, just before he swoops down, and presses their lips together.

It’s such a small, tender kiss at first, but it very quickly sets Shiro’s entire body aflame.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keith had just gotten off work. He’d worked a short, early shift at the bar, he was really just there to set the night up for the next guy. It’s about 10:30 when he leaves through the back door, to the reserved parking lot. He’s running on two hours of sleep, seven coffees, and two energy drinks. He’s in no rush, and in no condition to be driving home right now. He figures he can take a moment to relax in the welcoming emptiness of the parking lot.

 So he leans up against the wall, and fishes his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and then he gets a call from his dad. When his phone starts ringing, he forgets about his smokes, and answers the phone.

It’s a nice, polite conversation. His parents inquiring if he’s eaten dinner yet, which he hasn’t, and letting him know they saved him a plate of their own food, and that he’s more than welcome to join them for the night for a beer and a movie. It sounds pretty good to him, so he humbly agrees, and lets them know he’s on his way.

Just as he ends the call, he becomes aware to the idea that he might not be alone anymore. He ignores it and decides that if anyone is there lurking in the shadows, then they can find out the hard way that he is the wrong guy to mess with. He continues on in knowing peace, about ready to light his cig, when someone calls him out.

A deep, soothing voice that stops him dead in his tracks, because he knows that voice. He swears he knows that voice, but he can’t place it till he glances towards the back entrance and finds none other then his recent stalker. The gorgeous man with wide shoulders, sharp silver eyes, and muscles that create sinful ideas in Keith’s brain. The man with the mechanical arm and determined gaze that has been haunting him for days now.

He’s standing at the back door, slowly inching closer, eyes roaming over Keith with a burning intensity as he lectures his habits. A lecture Keith has heard many times before. A lecture he hears nearly every day from his fathers, from his friends. A lecture that never quite reaches Keiths ears. A lecture Keith is tired of hearing. So, he purposes a challenge to the man.

A challenge he didn’t think the man would be able to meet.

“If you’ve got that in your mouth, then I won’t be able to kiss you” He teases Keith, leaning in dangerously close. It’s a challenge of his own, Keith realizes. One he is very eager to comply with.

He doesn’t hesitate to drop his smoke to the floor where it’s forgotten about almost instantly, it’s loss to be mourned later, when Keith doesn’t have a cold cybernetic hand gripping at his hip, or warm lips pressing down on his own.

The kiss is short and sweet at first. But Keith is seeing fireworks behind eyes he doesn’t remember shutting. When the other man starts to pull away, Keith’s eyes burst back open, and he follows. Quickly chasing after the addicting feeling of the others lips on his. His hands surge up, shooting into thick black hair, moving through that tuft of white, as he yanks him back down against him.

The man doesn’t hesitate to kiss back. His lips move against Keith’s with such passion and greed that it sends sparks through his body. Hands move from hair, down to clutch at leather clad shoulders, the thick black material rough beneath his calloused fingers.

He hears a slight hum of approval when he pushes forward more, desperately trying to bring them closer, searching for any last bit of contact he can. The guy moves his arms so both hands, both large, strong hands are gripping firmly at Keith’s hips in a pleasingly possessive manner.

Keith doesn’t understand what the hell he’s doing. One-night stands and hookups are not something he’s foreign too, but this, this is different. He’s in the dark, secluded parking lot of his work. Letting a stranger, someone who he’s seen only from a distance, someone whose name and life he doesn’t know, someone he’s so sure was looking to punch him just a few days ago, letting them push him up against the wall. Letting them kiss him senseless and grip at his body, letting them touch him in such a familiar and intimate way that should be reserved. And he’s not just letting. He’s participating. He’s kissing back with just as much fever, he’s letting his hands roam over thick muscle, needily pawing like a horny teenager.

It’s so desperate and rushed and intimate and so unlike Keith. He rarely lets anyone with in a foot of his person bubble, let alone do something like this. It’s completely out of his character, and yet he’s doing it. And he doesn’t seem to care.

He doesn’t care one bit.

He cares much more about the way the man groans, pushing Keith’s back further up the wall. He loves the way he gives a pleased hum when Keith lifts his legs and wraps them firmly around the mans waist. He revels in the way he leans in to nip at Keith’s lower lip, attentively prying his mouth open so he can sneak his tongue in. He likes the way his tongue feels over his lips, In his mouth, over his own tongue. He loves every last bit of the way this guy kisses him, he steals away Keith’s breath. Each push of his lips feels like he’s devouring Keith soul and he’s absolutely addicted to it.

He’s leaning forward, begging for more, and just as soon as he has, the wonderful kiss is replaced with the equally delightful feeling of hot lips being pressed against his jaw. He rushes, trying to push Keith’s jacket aside a bit so he can leave a steamy trail of kisses all the way down his neck, tugging at fabric till he’s sucking and biting at a tender spot in the skin, just at the base of his neck. Keith moans, and involuntarily rolls his hips without thinking about it.

All he gets in response is an excited low growl, and another playful nip.

“Oh fuck” Keith lets out another low moan he didn’t even know he was trying to suppress, and then, not a second later, as the guy is still working on creating beautifully dark bruises on Keith’s skin, that burning intense mood they were building, was suddenly shattered.

From the guys back pocket comes the loud blare that is the introduction song from Star Wars. Both men groan in frustration. Keith unwinds his legs from the mans hips, and he’s let back down on the ground. They take a minute to breath, refusing to look eachother in the eye. Keith watches in confusion and slight anguish as he pulls his phone out. The call gets declined without a second’s worth of thought, the mans hard gray eyes glinting with the same amount of annoyance as Keith feels. He checks the messages displayed on his screen, and then he groans again. The phone disappears back into his pocket, and he shifts his attention back over to Keith. 

“I have to go, I have to take care of something” There’s no apology in the form of words, but Keith can hear the regret in his voice. He hesitates for a second, just staring down at Keith, who is still in a slight daze, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

Then he quickly leans down and steals another harsh kiss from Keith’s lips. He bites at Keith’s lower lip again, a little harder this time then before. He pushes his hands down to Keith’s ass, slipping them into Keith’s back pocket, causing Keith to lean closer to him. In the next second, he’s pulled away from Keith again, one hand holding up a packet of cigarettes, Keith’s pack of cigarettes, a sly grin on his face.

“And I’ll be taking these with me” He says triumphantly, like he’s daring Keith to challenge it. Keith on the other hand, is too blown out to put up a fight. He couldn’t care less about his cigarettes right now. Smoking was the last thing on his mind.

With one last soft caress of his jaw, and a sweet peck on the lips, the guy in black leather and prosthetic arm is suddenly striding away from Keith, back into the bar.

Keith watches helplessly, standing there in the dark, empty parking lot, looking like an idiot as he stares at the back of the stranger who has left him a little confused, a little disappointed, and very turned on.

 

_Hot Buff Guy: 5, Keith: Still 2._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not used to writing stuff like this, especially not so early in the story but uh, here we are. Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think!


	5. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I am doing, but I have 0 regrets

Keith’s not sure how it happens. Well, he knows how it started.

It started because Matt insisted on dragging Keith out to some new bar on a Saturday night, even though Keith made it clear he didn’t want to, and then Matt had the audacity to show up late.

Keith sat at the bar for a good twenty minutes. The first five he spent anxiously waiting outside the doors for his friend to arrive. The next five he spent trying to worm his way inside the crowded bar, trying to find a seat. Another couple minute to get his drink. He’s conveniently ignored by both bartenders on staff, taking the order of everyone in his vicinity, except for him. He contemplated hoping over and making his own drink, and he almost did, but thankfully one of the bartenders approached him. Keith managed one. One sip of his drink before a frat boy twice Keith’s size in every way and just as annoying.

The bar isn’t necessarily branded as a gay bar, but it’s advertisements has made it clear that this bar was welcome and open to all, and Matt had mentioned that it was so fairly popular amongst local LGBT+ Community.

Perhaps that’s why the giant joke had deemed it alright to try and flirt with Keith, or maybe Keith just gave off that natural gay vibe. He’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. What was bad, was the annoying man Keith had nicknamed ‘Jock-Strap’ in his head.

The flirting wasn’t so bad at first. Just the usual subtle compliments and offers of buying a drink. But after so long of Keith brushing those comments off, and Jock-strap chugging two beers to try and impress him, the flirtation became a bit more aggressive. He tried to move closer to Keith. Tried to whisper gross things in his ear. He tried to tell Keith that he’d love to take him home, and how he’d love to feel Keiths pretty lips all over his body, how he wants to push him up against the wall and fuck him until he can’t walk. He made all kinds of promises, telling Keith he’d make him forget his own name, and that he’d give him the best night of his life. Gross stuff like that, and he just wouldn’t stop.

Normally, that kind of stuff, from the right guy, would probably actually work on Keith. If it was someone his type, those dirty promises would definitely turn Keith on.

However, these were coming from a way too drunk frat boi, just barely legal enough to be in the bar, wearing khaki shorts, a white tank top three sizes too tight and covered in sweat, leather sandals and a neon orange snap-back sits crooked on his head. The way he’s dressed, the way he acts and talks. He’s the opposite of Keith’s type. Which means his attempts are coming off as annoying and sort of disgusting.

Especially after the seventh time Keith says no, and the third time he asks the guy to back off.

“What’s the matter, cutie, just trying to have some fun?” The guy slurs, and Keith honestly isn’t sure what he says. He’s too distracted by the way the guy reaches out and tries to grab at Keith’s waist. He’s quick to swat the hand away, but Jock-strap is persistent. He gives Keith a knowing grin and reaches for his hips again. This time, Keith grabbed onto his hand, squeezed, and yanked it, twisting it in a very painful way.

“Do not touch me” Keith warns before releasing the frat boys hand. But he doesn’t seem to get the idea. He only got mad. He called Keith a slur word he doesn’t dare repeat, cradling his hurt hand to his chest, before reeling back, and moving to take a swing at Keith.

Unfortunately for Jock-strap, Keith isn’t as weak as he looks. In fact, Keith’s undeniably strong, and very familiar with fighting. He manages to lock onto the larger fist, and this time, when he gets his grip, he yanks hard, and twists the entire body with it, until Jock-strap is facing away from him, Keith holding his arm hostage tightly against his back. He kicks the large man’s knees out from under him, knocking him down till his belly is against the dirty tile of the club. Keith kneels down, still twisting the guys arm behind his back.

“I told you. Do not. Fucking. Touch me.” Keith growls. There’s silence. Despite the trashy music playing over the speakers, everything seems to be hushed. Dozens of people staring at him. Some in awe, some confused, some look annoyed.  When Keith stands back up, he dusts off his hands, readjusts his shirt and leather jacket, and looks up to find a bouncer walking straight for him.

“Don’t worry about it, I can see myself out” He puts up his hands in mock surrender, before quickly slinking past the bouncer, and the crowds and dips out the front doors. He slinks off to the side of the building, seeking comfort in the shadows of the club.

He reaches into his pockets for his pack, in desperate need of a smoke to help calm his nerves, but he is very quickly reminded that his cigarettes had been stolen from him the night before by the most handsome of devils, and he forgot to buy a new case.

“If you came out here to smoke, I’d give up and hand them over now” Keith’s head snaps up, violet eyes glaring at the approaching familiar face. The one he had just been dreaming of.

“You know” Keith huffs, watching as the guy places himself on the wall beside him “I am starting to think you’re following me” He jokes, and the guy gives Keith a little grin.

“Not a stalker, just lucky” He jokes back, and It makes Keith smile. Keith can’t help noticing the way the guys eyes rake over his body, like he’s trying to see straight through Keith’s clothes, straight through Keith in general. To be fair, Keith does the same thing. It’s hard not to admire the mass of muscle in front of him. It would be an utter shame not to appreciate that well sculpted face and those chiseled arms and abs and that wicked smile. Keith wants to climb every last extra long inch of his body like a goddamn tree. Of course, he’s going to take a moment to look, to check him out.

Keith’s glad he does, because this time, he sees something that wasn’t there before. Above his breast pocket is an embroidered patch with the name ‘Champion’ sewed into it in colorful cursive letters.

Keith nearly has a heart attack because Champion? The Champion? That guys a fucking legend. He’s the head a biker gang known as ‘Voltron’ and those guys are a big fucking deal. They’re a small group, but they are fucking mighty. They’re super dedicated to charity and activism and equal rights. In local cities they’re more than just a motorcycle club, they’re protectors. They’re heroes. And Shirogane, Takashi Shirogane, the leader of Voltron is like a goddamn urban myth. The stories about this guy are endless and Keith made out with him. Keith made out with a fucking legend. He has to use every ounce of his willpower to drop his jaw at the realization.

“So, do you usually pick fights with guys twice your size?”  The Champion, Shiro asks, snapping Keith back to reality. He snickers a bit and shakes his head.

“Only when they’re asking for it” He hums in thought for a second, observing the guy again, trying so hard to keep his thoughts away from the previous night. Trying so hard not to remember the way those large hands gripped his hips and how those lips caressed his skin. He tries not think about it, but he fails.

“Do you usually make out with strangers in bar parking lots?” He asks, teasing him back.

“Only when said stranger had been haunting my every thought for the last week” he gets a sly smile and a knowing look as an answer, and he suddenly feels very dizzy. He thought about it. The Champion had spent a week thinking about him. Keith’s pretty sure no ones every thought about him like that before. Keith’s usually a fleeting moment for most people, a brief moment in their history, never more. To hear that he was consuming Shiro’s thoughts, while that has him burning up on the inside.

“If I can ask, what’d that guy do to deserve your wrath?” He suddenly changes the subject, most likely to avoid the deep blush on both his, and Keith’s cheeks. But Keith is in no way willing to drop that.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone” Keith shrugs a bit, “I lost it when he tried to touch me, but he said some pretty nasty stuff”

“Like what?” Shiro presses for more. Keith doesn’t understand why, but he goes with it.

“How he’d love to take me home, and all the things he’d do to me”

“Then he and I have a lot of common” and there it is. The words Keith didn’t know he was so eager to hear.

“You want to know the difference between you and him though?” He steps closer, let’s his hand reach out to squeeze a strong bicep. “I’d actually let you do it” His hand runs down the length of his arm, grabbing his hand to yank him a bit closer. He’s hoping for another kiss. Another confrontation that will leave his skin tingling like the night before. But more. He wants more this time. Wants more of that sweet sensation Shiro offers him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Hot breath hits his skin and sends a shiver down his spine. He’s so close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough to hear him breath, but it’s not close enough.

“I don’t think I’m allowed back in there any time soon” Keith breaths back, eyes glued to the lips so painfully close to his own.

“This isn’t the only place in town that has booze”

“I don’t think I’m in the clubbing mood anymore” He tries, hoping The Champion will pick up on what he’s trying to insinuate. He doesn’t want to go to anymore crowded bars. He wants to go home. He wants Shiro to take him home.

“Who said anything about clubs? It might not be a fully stocked bar, but I guarantee my fridge has at least a bottle of jack and a couple of beers in it” Thank fucking god. Shiro isn’t as dense as he thought.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Get me a drink before I die of thirst out here”

That’s how Keith ends up on at Shiro’s. What he doesn’t remember is how they got there, if they even got around to drinking, or how Keith ended up in Shiro’s lap, straddling his thighs and grinding against a quickly growing erection while pressing burning hot kisses to his throat. Keith doesn’t remember quite how they got here, but god dammit, he’s not fucking complaining.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Matt drags Shiro out to another bar for the second night in a row, and Shiro’s waiting for him impatiently at the bar, not wanting to be there in the first place, when he receives a text telling him Matt will be another fifteen minutes. Another fifteen minutes of Shiro standing quietly in the crowded club that’s far too loud and too young for his tastes. He’s about to leave, he’s pushing away from the bar and pulling out his wallet to pay the tab when he catches a glimpse of red leather from the corner of his eye.

He doesn’t think he could possibly be this lucky. After their encounter the previous night, Shiro had spent nearly every minute since thinking about the guy. How good he felt against him. His imagination ran wild with the possibilities, all the things that could have been if Matt hadn’t called him. Now here he was again, that same red leathered babe that was absolutely plaguing Shiro’s mind, in his direct vicinity again. Just at the other end of the bar.

But there’s someone already there, someone already flirting with him. A guy, probably the same height as shiro, and wider then him. He looks like a college freshmen or sophomore maybe, in his painfully stereotypical frat boy attire. Despite how unimpressed his stranger is with the guys flirting, Shiro can’t help the sense of jealousy and possessiveness that bubbles up in him. He’s got half a mind to storm over there and sweep up his mystery boy to save him from the scene. It would give him a good excuse to kiss those tender lips again.

However, before Shiro can even take a single step, the flirtatious guy is suddenly on his back, the mysterious red leathered boy sharply twisting his arm. He took down the guy in seconds flat. His mystery affection, the slender young man who couldn’t be any taller then 5’9, just took down a 6’2 jock in a manner so quick that Shiro didn’t even see it all. He took down a man twice his size like it was nothing. Shiro is strangely turned on by that. He watches in silent amazement as the guy puts his hands up in surrender, and escorts himself out before the bouncer can do it.

It takes him a moment, and a deep breath or two, but Shiro eventually follows the guy out, and moves around the corner to talk him. At first, Shiro is incredibly nervous. Not sure how it would play out, or if the guy would want the same things as Shiro, but in the end, he’s definitely glad he went and talked to him.

Because it’s that moment, that conversation that winds them up back at Shiro’s place. Turns out, Shiro actually is lucky. Incredibly fucking lucky, because Shiro gives the guy a beer, and they’re sitting on the couch for no more then five minutes before he suddenly has him on his lap, lips crashing together, and hips grinding. Their kissing doesn’t last long, the guy quickly switches from Shiro’s lip to suck dark bruises into the soft skin of Shiro’s neck.  He pushes his slender hands up Shiro’s chest to his shoulders to push away at his jacket. He shrugs off his own as well.

Shiro leans back into the couch as much as possible, neck stretched out eagerly as its subjected to hungry kisses. His hands have pushed up under the guys plain black shirt, roaming over smooth pale skin. Hips still grinding together in a painfully slow motion that ha Shiro groaning in frustration.

“Fuck, baby, I need you” He groans, his hands going down to grip at a thin waist, lifting his own hips a bit to forcefully grind up. There’s small gasp, and suddenly the beautiful boy in his lap goes rigid. Shiro quickly realizes his mistake and pulls away to apologize.

“Shit, I’m sorry, it just slipped out. I didn’t mean to call you that”  He scrambles to cover up the pet name that seems to have made his partner uncomfortable, but he’s met with violet eyes that burn with a new, indescribable intensity.

“It’s okay…” He leans down back down slowly to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth.  
“If you were anyone else, that would have had me running from this hill. But for you? You can call me whatever you want” Shiro doesnt know exactly what he means by that, but he doesnt care. It fills him with a whole new kind of excitement as he presses another kiss to Shiro’s lips. Slow and tender and they work together to rebuild that same passion from before. Timid kisses turn into tongues pushing and fighting and teeth nipping and soft moans.

Next thing he knows, he’s whining in protest as his partner slips out of his lap, and onto the floor.

“Don’t worry…” He promises, looking up at Shiro through thick lashes, a wicked grin pulling onto his lips “Im not done with you yet” He rests himself on his knees, pushing into the spot between Shiro’s legs, leaning his arms on Shiro’s thighs for support as he lowers his head to press delicate kisses to Shiro’s painfully obvious boner. He mouths at fabric suddenly too tight and too restricting. His teasing is endless and excruciating. He spends far too much time unzipping Shiro’s zipper, and then he spends his sweet time pawing and mouthing at his erection through his cotton boxers.

“Baby, please” He groans, and is his pleas are answered. Skilled hands tug down his pants and boxers to release his aching cock, and finally, finally does he get to live out one of his most recent fantasies. After all the times Shiro has jacked himself off to this very image, never once did he think it was actually going to happen. But here he is, the hottest damn guy he’s ever seen in resting between his legs, giving him a smirk that could revile that of the devil, trailing his tongue attentively over the underside of Shiro’s cock in a way that makes him shiver. He swears he could die happily now.

His eyes roll to the back of his head as that wicked tongue flicks out and runs over the slit. There’s many, many tantalizing little licks, all playful and evil and not nearly enough. When warm lips finally wrap around the head of cock, Shiro damn near fucking loses it. His head drops back against the couch, and his eyes flutter shut. His mouth is so hot and wet and perfect. That’s the only way Shiro can describe it. Perfect. The feeling off his nameless lover lowering his head, slowly taking all of Shiro into his mouth, bobbing his head, before popping back off and giving another playful squeeze and lick.

Shiro lets out a loud groan, his whole upper body flushed a deep red as his body works Shiro in his hand, giving experimental tugs and twists. He uses his spit and the little droplets of precum that had begun to form to ease the friction as he jerks Shiro. It feels like forever before he leans back down and takes Shiro into his mouth again. He revels in the way he hollows out his cheeks to suck and lick at the cock.

Shiro is being both humble and genuine when he is amazed at his lover’s ability to take all of Shiro at once. He keeps pushing until Shiro’s cock hits his throat, and his nose is pressed against coarse hair. He must not have a gag reflex, which intrigues Shiro greatly.

Momentarily, he wonders if it’s a natural talent, or something he had to teach himself. Shiro really hopes for the first, because something about his mysterious partner being with other men really bothers him. He has no right to feel possessive over a man whose name he doesn’t even know, but in this moment, it doesn’t seem to matter. Without thinking about it, when the other starts to bob his head, and lift up a bit, Shiro slips his hands into that thick black hair, and pushes his head back down.

There’s a slight gagging sound and Shiro forces him off when he once again realizes that he’s fucked up.

“Shit, I am so sorry, are you alright?” His hands shoot out of his hair to gently caress his cheeks and jaw, trying to show his concern.

“Didn’t think you were the type” but he’s smiling at Shiro, a fire dancing in his eyes as he licks his lips. “If I don’t stop, you don’t stop” which Shiro figures is his way of giving him permission. He nods, albeit a bit hesitantly, before threading his fingers back into that incredibly soft raven black hair.

The boy lowers himself again, kissing up along the thick shaft, hand squeezing at his balls. Wen he slips the large cock back into his mouth again, Shiro gives a cautious thrust upward, and when his lover doesn’t stop, he does it again, adding a light tug to his hair. He receives a soft moan, the vibrations thrumming against his dick in addicting manner.

It’s then Shiro is painfully reminded that it’s been at least a year since he’s been with anyone at all, and even longer since he’s had something this good. With him continuously fucking into that beautiful mouth, and that wicked tongue working magic on his shaft, he doesn’t last much longer.

After he cums and he watches in horror and fascination as his mystery lover swallows it, and then licks his lips as if wanting more, he gestures for the boy to crawl back up into his lap.

“My turn” he whispers harshly into his ear, once the man is settled in his waist. Shiro waists no time to return the favor. His nips and sucks at delicate skin, making his way from his jaw, to his earlobe and down to his neck and shoulder. One hand goes up his shirt to roam over a well-defined chest, and the other goes down to his waist.

“That’s not” necessary, is what Shiro assumes the next word was going to be, but it’s quickly lost in the air as Shiro’s hand dives into tight black skinny jeans to palm at the others growing erection. Between Shiro’s hungry kisses, his bionic hand thumbing at perk nipples, and his left hand carefully and skillfully jacking him off, the red leathered boy doesn’t last long at all.

Shiro doesn’t give him much of a choice when he picks him up and carries him to the back bedroom, so he can clean them both up. He does however ask the man if he wants to spend the night.

Intense violet eyes look between Shiro, the bed, and the door, as if contemplating the quickest escape route.

“Yeah… yeah okay” He agrees after a minute or so of silence. Down from the adrenaline rush that came with their little sexual escapade, the air between them has become a bit dense and uncomfortable Crawling into bed together certainly isn’t exactly the easiest. It’s awkward to say the least. But when Shiro grows the courage to sneak closer, and wrap his nameless partner in his arms, that tense vibe flies right out the window. Carefully placed in eachother embrace, they both calm down, and soon, Shiro falls asleep, knowing damn well that no matter what he dreams about, it couldn’t possibly be any better then what was currently happening in his reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don't write smut like this, and if I do, it's usually very mild and after a lot of slow burn, but i've had this seen planned forever and I really wanted to write it, so happy valentines day!  
> Hope you liked it, please let me know what you think!


	6. Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith realizes how dangerous Shiro can be.   
> Shiro realizes that he isnt a very sensible man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isnt??? at all??? What I had planned?????  
> I seriously don't know where this came from. I had a wholeeee different chapter planned but then this happened??? So uh?  
> Yeah, have some emotions!

Keith has a bad habit of not realizing how bad a situation he’s in, until he can’t get out of it. For instance, back in college, he let Matt take him to a frat party once, and someone tried to insist Keith would be a light weight drinker, so of course he had to prove them wrong.

It seemed smart at the time; he’d get wasted, have fun, and show up a bunch of meat heads at the same time. Great idea, right? Wrong. He woke up the next day on Matts couch with no wallet, no shirt, a trashcan filled with vomit next to his head, a bruise the size of Texas on his side, and a headache so strong he contemplated cracking his skull open on Matts coffee table to relieve himself of it. Did he show up a bunch of jocks? Yes, yes, he did. Matt has the pictures to prove it. Was it worth it? Absolutely not. Keith had put himself in a terrible situation and he didn’t even realize until long after. That wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wasn’t the last time.

Because here he was, dropping himself in yet another dangerous situation, half conscious of it and way too late to back out. But this time it’s not as easy as a drinking competition. The consequences of this situation aren’t going to fade with some aspirin and sleep. This situation is probably a hundred times more dangerous then any other stupid decision Keiths ever made.

This time, the danger he faces, is one Takashi Shirogane. The Champion. The gorgeous biker he just can’t shake from his thoughts.

Originally, Keith was scared of Shiro because he figured that mass of muscle was planning to take out some road rage on him. Now he realizes he’s pretty stupid for thinking that. Their little race had been tame. It was simple and playful, nothing most people would get that pissed for. Not to mention Shiro didn’t look angry, but disappointed, when he followed him to the garage. For some reason, the only excuse his brain could formulate for Shiro looking for him was anger. That Shiro was looking for him because he was looking for a fight.

Now he knows better. Now that he’s actually come face to face with the great Champion, and has looked into those steel eyes, he realizes that Shiro doesn’t have it in him.

Oh, Shiro could most definitely do some damage. Keith prays for whatever poor soul actually does piss off Shirogane in the future, because with those muscles, and the stories he’s heard, Keith’s pretty sure picking a fight with the Champion is a death sentence.

But he’s not a threat. Not to Keith, anyway.

It’s in the way he looks at Keith, the way he touches him. He treats the younger man like he’s something fragile. Something precious. Even after witnessing first hand that he isn’t. He still regards Keith like he’s an expensive piece of glass that he spent his entire life’s saving on. Every glance, every touch, every kiss, every caress; It’s all so tender and passionate yet so hungry.

He’s so gentle and so careful, and yet he still comes crashing into Keiths life. Knocking down each thoughtfully constructed wall that he’s built to protect himself. People Keith has known for years don’t feel this good. They don’t feel as natural or as comfortable to him as Shiro does, and he just barely learned the guys name. Shiro feels undeniably right to him.

Shiro also has full control of Keiths body. The way he reacts and responds to Shiro is ridiculous. To be so intimate with a stranger seems preposterous, but his body hasn’t grasped that concept yet. The traitor that it is to his brain, it answers Shiro’s every touch as if it’s known it a million times.

 Physically, Shiro absolutely owns him. He can’t deny that, as much as he wants to, the evidence piles up against him.

 Kissing Shirogane is like living in a dream. Keith didn’t know kisses could even feel like that. The warmth and the sparks and that rush. He thought that was something made up by trashy old romance novels. He didn’t think that feeling actually existed, but it does. It exists with Takashi Shirogane. He’s never actually seen ‘fireworks’ when kissing someone before but he finally understands that statement. When Shiro kisses him, and he closes his eyes, he isn’t faced with darkness. He finds bright, colorful explosions behind his eyelids.

And when Shiro touches him? Jesus Christ, he’s never felt something so good. Shiro’s large, calloused hand on him is his absolute new favorite thing. He holds Keith so possessively and it makes Keith feel so wanted and safe and cherished. That’s something he’s never really felt before, and he loves it. Shiro could wrap him up in those thick arms and never let him go again and he seriously doubts he’d argue it.

Then there’s the sexual aspect of things… When it comes to Shiro, Keith doesn’t think he has ever been so horny. He’s never wanted anyone so badly in his life. It’s way too easy for Shiro to turn him on. Admittedly, Shiro’s image is the only thing Keiths managed to get off to since they met. He’s certainly never lost himself so quickly to a single kiss, and he’s never gotten off so much from pleasing someone else. Keiths never gotten a boner while sucking someone off. But he was gone the second he pulled those jeans away to reveal a long, thick cock, that’s undoubtedly larger than anything Keiths ever handled before.

 Size didn’t scare him off though. He took it as a challenge. Forcing himself to keep his gag reflex down so he can shove Shiro’s dick all the way to the back of his throat. And fuck, he didn’t peg Shiro as the rough type, but he wasn’t complaining. When those strong hands tugged at his hair and forced him down so Shiro can fuck up into his mouth, his stomach pooled with arousal and he was extremely tempted to stop there so he can crawl back up into Shiro’s lap and let him fuck him for real. But he was just as determined to see the job through.

The way Shiro moans is probably one of his favorite sounds now too. Right after the sound of Shiro calling him _‘Baby_.’ A name Keith usually hates. Keith hates pet names in general, but that name has always bugged him on a different level. He once kicked a guy in the balls for calling him that, but when Shiro said it, Keith swears his soul died and ascended to heaven.

Shiro could probably do just about anything to Keith, and he’d thank him for it. After Shiro finished, he looked down at Keith like he was the best thing in the whole universe, then he pulled him off the floor, back into his lap, and he took care of Keith. Yet another first. Not a lot of guys had been willing to give as much as they took. Most of them were selfish, they’d get off, and then they’d be done. If they did, they did it quickly and with out care. They did it out obligation, not because they wanted to.

But fuck, Shiro acted like he wanted it. He held Keith, touched him, whispered to him so passionately it hurt. He came embarrassingly quick, and then before he knew it, he was being carried off to a back bedroom. He was expecting Shiro to jump him for more, but well, there wasn’t anything more. Shiro just sat him down on the bed, kissed him sweetly, and helped clean him up. They change out of their dirty clothes, he offers Keith some clean ones. Then he offers for Keith to spend the night.

At this point, in any other relationship, Keith would already be home. He usually dipper out the second they’d cum. He didn’t really do the clean up and the spending the night thing. He hates spending the night with people, he always, always ditches them the first chance he gets.

He hadn’t even realized that he was just expecting to stay with Shiro until he had asked. He had just assumed he would. He did think about it, not once was he considering it, but when Shiro asked him, it shocked him so much because he realized how badly he wanted it. He was just about ready to crawl in that bed himself and pass out, which could have been bad, because what if Shiro didn’t want him there? It took him a minute, looking between Shiro and the bed and the door. Contemplating if it really was okay to spend the night. He’d already broken so many rules for Shiro…

Before he actually has a solid answer, he finds himself agreeing, only because the hopeful look in Shiro’s eyes overpowers any sense of reason he has left in his brain. Once he’s actually in the warm bed, and he finds himself cuddled up to Shiro and finds himself enveloped in his scent and his warmth he finds that he doesn’t regret the decision one bit. In fact, quite the contrary.

Sleeping in Shiro’s arms was all too easy. Eerily so. Considering Keith is known for being restless. He can never fall asleep, and he’s constantly threatened by nightmares. He usually averages four hours of sleep a night. But while being held by Shiro? He sleeps like a child. He sleeps peacefully, no nightmares, no getting antsy, he doesn’t even get up for the bathroom. He sleeps soundly throughout the entire night. Until his sleep has run its natural course and it’s simply time to wake up.

He’s still curled up in Shiro’s arms. Face pressed into a strong chest. Shiro’s face is in his hair, arms tight around him. He can feel the heat of his breath, and he can hear the rhythm of his heart beat, and again, realizes he has a new favorite sound.

“Mmm… Baby… Go back to sleep” Keith jolts when Shiro suddenly whispers in his hair. He’s not sure how Shiro even knew he was awake. He hadn’t made a sound, and he certainly didn’t move.

“I should probably go soon…” Keith whispers back. He’s probably over stayed his welcome. Staying the night was really pushing It, but he definitely should leave the second he’s up, and well, he’s up now. That’s just simple hook-up etiquette, but Shiro’s making it very hard for this to just be a one night stand.  

“Not yet” Shiro grumbles, arms tightening around Keith. “another hour” He proposes, nuzzling his face deeper into Keiths hair, taking a deep breath. Keith feels like his whole body has frozen in time, his heart too.

“Okay…” He agrees, because he doesn’t know how to say no… Not to that… Not to Shiro...

Shiro mumbles something that gets lost in the tangled mess of hair, before pressing a soft kiss to Keiths head. Keith involuntarily sighs, pushing his face into Shiro’s shoulder. His heart goes from still to nearly popping out of his chest in seconds flat.

 _I could get used to this,_ He thinks to himself, then quickly realizes the mistake, and he suddenly feels very, very terrified.

It is for this reason, that Takashi Shirogane is so extremely dangerous.

but Keith just so happens to be addicted to danger.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Shiro likes to considers himself a sensible man. But, He’ll admit, in his younger days, he was a bit wilder. When he was a teenager, and in his early twenties, all he cared about was freedom. All he ever wanted to do was drive. His first motorcycle was an old, beat up 1957 Harley Davidson Sportster that his grandfather gave him. The bike would have been gorgeous if it was well taken care of, but his grandfather wasn’t the richest man, he was only the kindest. He knew Shiro wanted a motorcycle more then anything else, he had dreamed about it since he was old enough to dream, so when he hit 16, and was old enough to drive, his grandfather scrounged up barely enough money to buy Shiro the first, and cheapest cruiser he could find.

That’s how he ended up with a bucket of rust, triple his age, and in desperate need of every type of repair imaginable. Shiro poured every last bit of his own hard-earned money, and every last second of his scarce free time into caring for that bike. It took months before it was road worthy, but once he got it going, he never stopped. He loved nothing more then the rush of speed the bike forced, the feeling of harsh winds against his face and through his hair. When he sped along the narrow, winding road that enclosed his town, gazing out over the entire city as he climbed the hill higher and higher, so incredibly alone yet so warm at the same time. He often felt like he was flying.

That used to be his favorite feeling in the whole world. After he went into college, and his grandfather passed away, the loneliness he used to reveal in went cold. It became harsh, and unwelcoming, knowing he no longer had family to return home to. When Shiro approached the Garrison, deciding to prospect for the club, it was in search of a new, self-built family. In doing that, he lost much more then he gained. It took him years again to re-build himself. The Garrison, and all they pushed him into, had ruined him, and his love of riding. It took him over a year, after he escaped, to climb back on a bike. Another year to piece together a club of his own, one that fought for what was good, and pure. Made up of people that were seeking that same feeling Shiro was.

But even now, years after he’d finally found his hand-made family, he still feels lonely.

He still feels cold.

Sunday morning, when he’s driving to work, hands gripping tight at leather handle bars, his brain is twenty miles faster then his own motorcycle.

The night before, Shiro had his first sexual encounter in over a year, and the best one he’s ever had in general. Not many people find Shiro’s scars attractive. Not many people like being held by a non-human hand. Few people since his accident, had found Shiro’s disabilities attractive. If they were somehow able to look past the visible damage, they often gave up at the mess only seen in the dim private space of a bedroom.

 Shiro’s body isn’t clean. It’s cut, and it’s broken, and it’s mangled.  That’s just how he is, his scars are a part of him, he excepted that long ago. But much of society hasn’t. Most people just avoid his scars. They don’t like them, they’re turned off by them, but they just choose not to focus on them. They ignore them.

Unlike his mystery lover. Who seemed enamored by Shiro’s marred skin. He doesn’t stare at it, doesn’t question it, and he doesn’t flinch when the cold metal moves over his skin. If anything, he seems to enjoy it. He looks at Shiro, looks at him wholly, as if Shiro’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. He seems to be just as attracted to the scars and metal as he is to the rest of Shiro, which is something that has never happened before.

In retrospect, asking him to spend the night was probably not the smartest choice. Sleeping with a person whose name you don’t know, probably isn’t something a sensible man does. Asking said stranger to spend the night with you, in your house, in your bed, especially when you know it might not go well, isn’t very sensible either.  

Shiro isn’t exactly susceptible to sleep. He tends to stay awake for hours on end staring at the darkness on his ceiling. He’s extremely restless, constantly tossing and turning; a nuisance, according to past bed mates. His past also haunts him more easily in this less defensive state, making him quite vulnerable to nightmares.

But he had none of that last night.

He slept soundly throughout the night, only caring about the precious boy in his arms. Though he was the one doing the holding, he somehow felt extremely safe, and protected as he slept. As if nothing could touch him with his lover was there. Not his anxieties or his fears or his past. The raven-haired boy warded them all off with his comfortable presence.

Shiro remembers waking up once, not for any particular reason, he had just been awake. He was instantly aware that his partner had also been awake. He was nearly frozen in Shiro’s grasp, head pressed gently to his shoulder. His fingers against Shiro’s skin shook ever so slightly, like he was nervous. Somehow, Shiro concluded that his lover was contemplating leaving. He didn’t like that thought. His grip around the boy tightened, and he buried his face deeper in the lovely, cinnamon scented mess of black hair as warning, and asked him to stay. He wasn’t challenged, only met with an agreement as they pressed closer together. He didn’t quite think about it at the time, but he remembers now, pressing his lips to the top of his head in a soft kiss far too intimate for their circumstances.

The second time he wakes up, he’s painfully alone, and agonizingly cold. He hadn’t realized just how warm the other was keeping him until he was gone. Shiro finds a note on the pillow next to him, instead of pale skin and violet eyes.

_Unfortunately, I do have responsibilities to uphold, and things to do outside of this bedroom. Thanks for the night, I’ll see you around, Champion._

The simplicity of the note makes his heart thud against his ribcage, and at the sight of that first word, his stomach knots itself. He hopes that his parted lover feels just as disappointed about leaving as Shiro himself does. After reading it, he get’s up painfully slow, his eyes lingering on the nickname used. He’s never been fond of that name, but he can’t help but wonder how it would sound on that wicked tongue.

Momentarily he wonders how his lover knew the name, but that’s quickly overpowered by the sheer envy of not having a name to match the image of that red leathered angel whose hand is currently gripping tight at his heart.

When Shiro pulls up to his work, his mind completely settled on his nameless lover, he realizes, that for the first time, in a very, very long time;

He’s felt warmth.

And it’s no longer because of the thrill of speed or the rush of wind that only a motorcycle can bring.

No, Shiro has a new favorite feeling.

The feeling of vibrant violet eyes gazing over him like he’s the answer to ever last secret the universe holds. The feeling of soft, pale skin burning hot beneath his hands. Plush, pink lips hungrily kissing every last available bit of flesh. The feeling of tugging at red leather until it drops to the floor. A lithe, slender body peacefully wrapped up in his arms. A chest pressed flush against him and the feeling of their heart beat flowing and intertwining with his own. 

Shiro is enamored by a stranger, he’s realized.

And that’s not very sensible at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I know this isnt what I had planned, but I hope you liked it all the same. Next chapter we'll get back on track, and they will be meeting again~


	7. Poker Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finally learns a new name for Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sad, I wanted to post this on Shiro's birthday, but then I drowned in work and school work and then season five came out and I died and never got to finish this in time.  
> But here it is, and I hope you like it!

Shiro’s not a big fan of poker runs. He doesn’t see much of a point to them. He at least likes the ride, and the company, and while he thinks it’s silly to spend money on everything just to participate, he likes knowing it goes to a good cause. It’s just not really his scene.

The only reason Shiro is at this one, is because, as usual; Matt dragged him to it.

Matt is actually running this one, kind of. Matt recently became the president of the ‘Intergalactic Rebel Coalition’, a name Shiro thinks is pretty ridiculous for a biker gang. However, it’s an exaggerated way for them to make it known that everyone and anyone is welcomed into their club, regardless of who they are, or where they came from. Apparently, before you can prospect for the rebels, they ask you ‘what are you fighting for?’, and that’s something Shiro respects greatly. Although just about everyone in the Rebels is a huge nerd in some form, they’re really good people. Ruthless, but good. They did an insane amount of charity work before, but the second Matt had to take over, he was determined to do even more. Matt putt his all into this poker run because it’s his first event as President. So, Shiro of course, stepped up to the plate for his best friend, and offered Voltrons help. Voltron pulled even more guests. Mostly for the chance to eat Hunk Garrets food at the final stop.

Shiro isnt the only one who leant a helping hand. Matt apparently has an old friend from high school in another Biker Gang called ‘The Blade of Marmora’. The Blades were a different type of gang. They still did plenty of charity work, a ton of charity work, actually, but they did it more hands-on stuff, and they did it more discreetly. They were secretive, and sort of anti-social. But apparently, Matt’s friend ‘Keith’, had roped in The Blades to not only join, but to donate some big prizes. Everyone’s heard of The Blade, but most people have never seen them. Shiro certainly has never seen one. Or so he thought.

“Ulaz?” He grins at the older man, sliding onto a barstool next to him. The Rebel base is large, but it’s packed. He’s surprised he even found an open seat, let alone one next to an old friend.  
“Champion? It’s good to see you” The older biker twists in his seat to give Shiro a friendly smile and a slight nod. He looks the same as he did all those years ago. Tall and lean but clearly defined. His cheeks are sunken in a bit, and his angles are sharp and pointed. His chin is narrow, as are his amber eyes. The sides of his of his hair are closely shaved down, leaving only a strip of fluffy white hair to flow down the middle in a small, thin, sort of faux-hawk. In all honesty, Shiro isnt sure how to describe. He knows that on many people, it wouldn’t look the best, but Ulaz somehow manages to pull it off.

“Good to see you too, I didn’t know you were a blade?” Shiro nods to the black leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, the neon purple insignia burned onto a small dagger painted on the back patch. A clear sign of The Blade of Marmora.

“I’ve been with the blade most of my life” He responds, voice as steady and calm as ever.

“Even back when you saved me?” The worst day of Shiro’s life, the day of the accident that cost him his arm, Ulaz was the one who found him, and the one who drove him to the hospital.

“Even back then” He confirms.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The Blade of Marmora is entirely made up of people who either used to be in The Galra or were attacked by them. Much like Shiro was. Knowing now that Ulaz was appart of it, he’s surprised he wasn’t recruited.

“If you had wanted to know, you would have asked. Besides, I could tell by the look in your eyes that day, you were not ready to join another club. It turned out to be the correct choice. You ended up doing better things” Ulaz wraps his hand around a tall, ice cold glass filled with an oddly blue liquid, taking a sip of it as he nods at Shiro’s Voltron vest. The lion, with it’s rainbow mane proudly roaring on the back, and his name scrawled in shining purple on his breast pocket. It’s a vest Shiro is incredibly proud to own, just as Voltron is something he’s incredibly proud to be a part of.

“huh…” Is all Shiro has to say to Ulaz’s remark. They both know he’s right, there’s no reason to say more. So Shiro instead takes a second to take a sip of his own drink, and glace around the space.

“There’s a lot of Blades here. I’ve never heard of you guys being very social. How’d Matt swing that?” He asks, his eyes trying to count how many jackets, vests, and shirts he can spot that match Ulaz own leather. There’s at least fifteen, which is incredible, considering he’s never seen even one at event, and has never heard of more then two or three being out at once.

“My son is a Blade member, a decently respected one. He’s good friends with the Holt boy. He managed to convince us all…” His friend sighs, taking another sip. Shiro can tell Ulaz is remembering something or thinking something over. More then likely, what ever painful conversation that landed him at this bar.

“I didn’t know you had a son?” Shiro remembers talking to Ulaz for quite a while. He thought Ulaz had told him a decent amount of stuff, or at least the essentials. He was apparently very wrong.

“I do. I adopted him when he was very young. He’s a… difficult young man. He’s a couple years younger then you. Around here somewhere” Ulaz sighs, but he doesn’t sound annoyed or anything. He speaks fondly.

“He must be Keith then. Matt’s told me a bit about him. Maybe I’ll finally meet him today” He smiles, and Ulaz smiles, and nods back. Matt has been trying to get Shiro to meet this Keith guy for a while now. He’s apparently been good friends with Matt since highscool, and he’s also well acquainted with all the other members of Voltron. It’s sort of odd that they’ve never met, but then, he supposes things happen for a reason.

 _Speaking of fate._ He thinks, his eyes darting across the room when they catch a glimpse of dark, inky black laying over bright red leather. Shiro’s out of his stool before he can even think twice about a plan of action. He’s not willing to let his Angel slip from him again, not this time.

“It’s been great catching up with you Ulaz, maybe I can find again later, if you’re sticking around for a while. I would love to talk more, but I think someone is waiting on me”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Keith as usual, and to no one’s surprise, is trying to hide from Matt. Matt Holt has had Keiths back since highschool. He backed Keith up in fights, he defended Keith from teachers, helped him with the homework he couldn’t handle, and gave him a place to sleep when his own bed was too cold. Matt was a good friend, and Keith did everything he could to return that. He would back up Matt till the day they died, but he had to draw the line somewhere, and he’s drew it about ten minutes ago when Matt tried to drag him across the clubhouse to ‘introduce’ him to Shiro.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Matts intentions were innocent, but they certainly were not. Matt knows about Keith and Shiros little encounters. In full detail. The day after he spent the night at Shiro’s, he spent the night at Matt’s, playing video games. For months now, Matt has been trying to get Keith to meet an old friend from highschool, and every time Keith either isnt willing, or something goes wrong. Or, at least they thought. Matt asked him where he went the previous night, seeing as he was supposed to be at the bar, but by the time the rebel actually got there, both his friends were gone. So, Keith told him, in blunt honesty that made Matts face twist with disgust, and apparently, Shiro had told the same story a few hours earlier and with just as much detail.

Only Shiro had no idea who he was.  

 _“I’ll never look at either of you the same”_ he gagged when Keith finished his detailed explanation. Matt was smart. Probably the smartest person Keiths ever met (only rivaled by Matts little sister Katie, who was just as clever). Of course, he had put the pieces together, just as Keith had.

Shiro wasn’t stalking him, though he figured that out in the beginning. Shiro’s too soft to do something so creepy. No, The Champion was conveniently always in the right spot at the right time because he was put there. They kept running into eachother because Matt was constantly calling them to the same place. Shiro was the highschool friend Matt had been trying to set him up with. It was probably one of the funniest things Keiths ever heard. Here Matt was, trying to so hard the two of them up, but his friends had done it all on their own. They didn’t need anyone else’s interference to hook up. They were naturally drawn together. All of Matts attempts had failed, but his end goal was still somehow achieved. The irony.

Although, Keith does like the idea that he and Shiro were destined to meet. Even if he hadn't raced Shiro, they would have met. One way or another, they still would have come together. He likes the thought of that.

However, now that Matt knows they’ve already met, he’s even more determined to do proper introductions. He’s not ready for that. He’s not sure why, but the thought of actually having to face Shiro and actually tells him who he is, scares the shit out of him. For a second, he wonders what Shiro will think once he knows the truth. Right now, Shiro thinks he’s some kind of mysterious sexual angel (Matts words), but he’s not.

Keiths an awkward, anti-social wreck that’s too touch deprived and thirsty to decline someone as gorgeous as Shiro. He’s scared to break that illusion. He’s scared that Shiro won’t be attracted to him anymore after they actually meet. He finds Keith physically attractive. That’s nothing new. People have found Keith attractive plenty of times, but not to the level Shiro does. Shiro looks at Keith like a miner in the 19th century would look at a piece of gold. That’s new. Sure, Keith’s standardly attractive, but he’s not that hot. The Champion disagrees, according to Matt. So, Keith isnt worried about that. He’s very pleasantly surprised about that. He’s worried that Shiro, like most, will get turned off by his personality. He’s brash, overly determined, incredibly impulsive and pretty intense. He’s been compared to a wild fire for most of his life; powerful, unapologetic, and uncontrollable. Keith is also very awkward, and socially inept. He’s by no means sexy, or suave. He’s dense and clumsy around other people. There’s a mile long list of things people typically found off putting about him, So let’s just say that Shiro wouldn’t be the first person to run for the hills after officially meeting the real Keith.

He can’t have that. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s already hung up on Shiro. The guy doesn’t even know his name yet, but he’s got Keith wrapped around his finger. Keith already likes the guy, like, a lot. Keith hasn’t had a crush on someone, a real, actual crush since high school. He likes this guy purely based off of the wild stories he’s heard from his friends, and the handful of sparse meetings they’ve had. But the way Shiro looks at him, the way Shiro talks to him and touches him and holds him…. It’s all too much for him. It’s all so much, and it’s all undeniable. He doesn’t have to be a genius to figure out that he and Shiro have an overwhelming amount of physical chemistry.

He’s so scared to ruin that. He’s also aware that if he meets Shiro. If he gets that proper introduction and they talk without making out, and he actually gets to know the man from his own words and on his own time, he knows he’s going to be fucked, and not in the fun way.

He knows, he has absolutely no doubts, that if he lets himself, he can and will fall head over heels in love with Takashi Shirogane.

That, is the most terrifying thought ever because _Love._ Love is fucking horrifying. He’s never loved anyone, not like that. He loves his motorcycle, he loves his few friends, and he loves his parents. But that’s about it. Keith barely even loves himself. The prospect of loving someone else, loving someone like that. That’s some real shit, some scary shit that he never thought he would have to deal with.

So, maybe he does know why he’s so afraid to meet Shiro in person, and that’s why he’s hiding from Matt, carefully sneaking into the Rebels storage room, where he think’s no one is going to find him.

 

“I knew there was a good reason for coming here tonight” _Oh yeah, I am fucked._ He thinks, as someone slips through the door right behind him, and traps him up against it once it’s closed. Hot lips press against his neck without warning while large hands grip possessively at his hips. He’s silently thankful for the extra support, seeing as his knees have gone weak on him.

“How’d you find me?” He gasps, refusing to reject Shiro’s touch, he chooses to wrap his arms around his neck instead.

“Spotted you from across the room” He mumbles, words getting lost in Keiths soft flesh.

“There’s like a hundred people out there, how could you possibly spot me from across the room?” He asks, seriously doubting that explanation. It’s not like Keith particularly stands out in anyway. He’s short and fairly average.

“I’d know you anywhere, Baby.” He sounds so proud of himself as he nuzzles his face into Keiths neck, still pressing soft, delicate kisses to the pale skin there.

“And hows that?” Keith snorts, threading his fingers through that thick, short hair.

“Black hair, and red leather. My favorite color scheme…” The barely coherent sing-song like mumble is his only response, one large hand roaming up Keiths side, over said red leather jacket, and all the way up to cup the side of his face, metallic fingers lightly combing through the aforementioned black locks of hair.

“That’s not how the song goes” Keith can’t help but laugh, and Shiro pulls away to smile down at him.

“That’s how my version goes” There’s something about the way Shiro says that. Something about the spark that ignites behind his gray eyes as he looks at Keith, something about the whole moment in general, that makes Keiths insides burn up. He surges forward, pulling Shiro down by his neck at the same time to clash their lips together.

Shiro hums in pure delight, and kisses back with the same amount of eagerness Keith suddenly has. His right hand moves back down to Keiths hip, and the gesture makes Keith press himself closer.

Shiro’s lips feel warm and heavy against his own, and it’s not long before he feels Shiro’s tongue against his lower lip, licking his mouth open. He complies, and let’s Shiro explore his mouth, occasionally pushing his own tongue back. They pull away for a split second, to collect their breath, and Keith choses to nip at The Champion, playfully tugging on that plush bottom lip with his sharp teeth.

Shiro groans loudly, his grip on Keith’s waist tightens momentarily, before hiking Keith further up the wall. Keith, in response, wraps his legs aground Shiro’s waist, and ruts forward. That earns him a sharp nip as well. But Shiro nips at the most sensitive spot on Keiths neck and he moans just a little too loudly for their semi-public space.

“Like music…” Shiro’s voice is low, and Keith barely manages to make out the words, but he doesn’t even get to think about what his lover is talking about before he bites down again.

“Shiro…” He whines, and the taller man gives the spot a gentle, apologetic peck.

But that soft little kiss turns into more kisses, and those kisses turn into hot, opened mouth kisses, which just leads to suckling and that leads to even more biting but by the time Shiro nips him again, Keith’s too gone to care.

“You sound so good saying my name” Shiro groans, after Keith sighs it like a mantra for the fifth time.

“Then make me scream it” Keith can’t stop himself. His neck is covered in hickies, one of Shiro’s hands has started to sneak up his shirt to rub at his side, he’s already half hard and pressed dangerously close to Shiro, who is also packing wood and looking dangerously sexy. In that moment, he was fully willing to let Shiro fuck him up against the door of the unlit supply room, and he probably wouldn’t have regretted a single second of it. And he thinks Shiro might actually be willing to take the offer, if the way he moans against Keith's neck is any kind of indicator. 

 

“Yo, uh, Cherry Bomb? You in there?” Of course, the Universe never let’s have anything so easily. The knock on the door shocks Keith into static _. Fuck, that’s Regris. Why is Regris looking for me?_

He tries to take a second to calm himself down, takes a deep breath so he can respond without sounding as wrecked as he is. It’s hard to control himself though, when soft lips are mouthing ‘ _Cherry Bomb?’_ against his neck with an amused smile.

“Yeah… Yeah, Reg. Jus’ Hidin from Matt, what’d’ya need?” His words slip, and slur together as he tries to suppress a moan. Shiro apparently, isn’t going to be deterred by such a measly interruption. Even if they are only on the other side of the door.

“Your old man’s looking for yah, I think you oughta take him home. Someone thought it was a good idea to give him tequila shots” Keith groans again, but not because of Shiro this time. Because his dad and tequila were never a good mix.

“Fuck, Alright Reg, I’ll be right there” He dismisses his fellow blade, and he waits a second, until he knows for sure he’s gone. Then he turns his attention back to his lover, realizing that Shiro’s finally been stunned into a frozen position.

“Uh, Shiro?” He taps at his shoulder, unwinding his legs to set himself back on the ground. Shiro pulls his head up, slowly, to look down at him with confusion and fear swirling around in those dark storm clouds that made up his eyes.

“I hate to do this, but I really need to go…” he hesitates, and he winces at the lack of contact when Shiro’s hands leave his hips.

“Yeah, you’re right. Better go check on your old man” and just like that, Keith understands the situation. He’s never, ever been good at reading things. He’s denser then concrete, according to his buddies, but he finds Shiro surprisingly easy. For Keith, Shiro let’s everything live right there on his sleeve.

“Yeah, I should. My _dad_ can handle his alcohol really well? But tequila? One shot and he’s more waisted then a first timer at a frat party” Keith exaggerates, wanting to emphasize exactly who he’s going to help. The thing is, the term ‘old man’ can have two meanings, depending on context. Someone’s ‘old man’ or ‘old lady’ can either mean their parent, or their spouse. Keiths heard it many, many times in both connotations. So, he understands Shiro’s momentary confusion. For a second there, Shiro seemed to think Keith was a taken man, and he wants to make it clear that he is very single.

“See you around, Champion” He leans up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Shiro’s lips. But Shiro’s right hand flies up to grab his hair and extends the kiss for just a moment longer. His left hand, at the same time, slides down to squeeze at Keiths ass.

When he pulls away, those storm clouds have been struck with lightning, igniting them with a new vibrancy, and there’s a smug grin on those kiss reddened lips. For a second, he contemplates simply calling his dads an uber, and locking the damn office door, and Shiro isnt helping any, especially not when he whispers back, voice low and sweet;

“See you around _, Cherry Bomb_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I remember being so confused as a child when people would use the terms 'my old man' and 'my old lady' because it always took me ten minutes each time to figure out if they were talking about their parents or if they were talking about their s/o. I don't think this is used like, world wide or anything, and I doubt it's like all of the u.s, but it's definitely common here in SoCal, and especially in boker communities.  
> Anyway, Im lonely and always looking for more friends, so if you want to come scream with me about this fic, any of my other fics, sheith, or voltron season 5 (or the show in general) or literally just about anything, come find me on tumblr @ gaythoughtsandfeelings


	8. Over Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re looking really thirsty, buddy. Stay here, I’ll get you something to quench that” Matt pats Shiro’s shoulder lightly as he pushes out his chair and makes his way across the room before Shiro could even object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is shook(TM)   
> Anyway. So sorry about the unplanned hiatus guys. Life sort of kicked my ass for a while there. But I am back on my feet now, and really hoping to get my writing back on track. Hopefully chapter 9 is up in the next week or so. Enjoy!

Shiro isnt a huge fan of ‘over-nighters’. There’s a lot more drinking then he’d like to partake in, and the ‘until-the-early-hours-of-the-morning’ nights just were not his thing. He wasn’t much of a dancer, so that part was out too. He was never all that willing to drop his money at the vendor booths, and if it weren’t for the charity aspect then he’d probably never participate in the raffles either. Sometimes there were fun activities. Those depend on the camp ground though. Sometimes they have bike races, which Shiro is always willing to participate in, and always wins. This camp ground doesn’t really have the room for that though. Matt does have a projector, and he does plan to do a movie night to offer something a bit more family oriented. There’s also a nearby stable that offers horse riding lessons. That’s more for children. So, long story short, there isnt really anything here for Shiro, and yet, here he is.

Matt absolutely insisted that he come. In fact, he didn’t actually give Shiro an option. He came home from work to find Matt already packing his clothes for him. Matt even rented a small camper for him as a bargaining chip, knowing that Shiro isnt comfortable in traditional tents. He’s usually too tall for most of them but sleeping on the ground or even sleeping on an air-mattress tends to get uncomfortable for his prosthetic. That’s usually his excuse for getting out of over nighters, and Matt found the loophole.

Why he wanted Shiro to go so badly is lost on him. He understands wanting Voltron. Hunks offer to cook the mass meals alone probably drew in a whole extra crowd. Having Voltron there always brought in more people, so he understands that, but just because Shiro is the president of the club doesn’t mean he has to be there. Allura could have taken over for the weekend no problem. But no. Matt wasn’t having any of that.

So now he brought Shiro a whole mini camper, packed his stuff for him, and even helped him set up. All for the sake of Shiro loosing his complaining rights for the weekend, and while Matt drags him all over the camp grounds.

He makes Shiro do a whole damn meet and greet with just about everyone there, all because Matts searching high and hell water for his old friend.

“If he would stay in one freaking spot he’d be easier to freaking find” Matt complains, near giving up as he leads Shiro towards the front of the campground. In the distance, he can dark purple flags with shining silver daggers. The Blade of Marmora. Last time Shiro saw that symbol was on a t-shirt a few weeks ago at the poker run.

“Do you think he’s a Blade? Maybe that’s Why I’ve never seen him around?” Shiro wonders aloud, and Matt huffs because he doesn’t need to ask who Shiro means. It’s been about two weeks since the poke-run, which means it’s been two very long weeks since he’s last seen his mystery crush. Matt has to hear Shiro complain about it nearly every day.

“I only know like, five Blade members. My friend might be able to help you out though…” Matt suggests, but he’s also suggesting a bit more then ‘help’, Shiro sighs in frustration.

“Yes, the friend you’ve been trying to set me up with for months is really going to help me find the anonymous guy that I am obsessed with” he dead pans, and Matt chuckles. It’s too late in the game to try and deny his fascination with his name-less lover. Well, partially nameless. He caught the nickname ‘Cherry-Bomb’ during their last little encounter, but it didn’t really help him much. Considering he spends half his time either day dreaming about him, or trying desperately to find him, and he knows Matt’s never going to let him live it down, he might as well accept it and call it what it is. Shiro is absolutely obsessed with finding his red leathered biker.

“You never know” Matt shrugs with a sly grin. That’s another thing Shiro doesn’t quite understand. Why is Matt so obsessed with Shiro meeting his other best friend? It’s one thing for them to meet, but Matt is very insistent that they date.

“If that little shit would answer me, we wouldn’t have to scrounge through the whole campground” Matt whines, as they grow closer to designated Blade campground. Shiro can see a couple bikes, trucks, and a few tents. There doesn’t seem to be very many of them, but at least they showed. It’s certainly a lot more then anyone expected. He hopes at least Ulaz is there, and he really hopes his ‘Cherry-Bomb’ is among them as well. He knows Shiro is apart of Voltron, and Voltrons aid in this event was well advertised. Maybe he heard about it and decided to come, even if he’s not in a club. That is assuming he wants to see Shiro. He can’t be the only one in their odd, semi-anonymous relationship that feels so committed to it. He can’t be the only one that feels their connection. He’s drawn to that red leather like a moth to flame, and with the way the other always responds to Shiro’s touch, there is no way he’s alone in that. He just can’t be.

“Finally,” Matt interrupts Shiro’s internal pondering, and their silence is broken with the annoying ringtone of his phone.

“Sorry, Shiro, guess my friend isnt even here yet” Matt shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket, but there is a hint of knowing amusement to his voice that confuses Shiro.

“Uhm? Okay?” He didn’t want to be dragged around like a show dog in the first place, so he isnt going to complain when Matt finally lets him hide away in his camper again. Thankfully the Voltron camp site is fairly close to the Blade of Marmora sight, so he doesn’t have to walk all the way back across the grounds or anything. He unpacks his stuff a bit, so he can be comfortable and not constantly digging for things all weekend. He grabs a water from the little mini fridge that Matt so kindly stocked for him and curls up in the queen-sized bed with his book. The other Voltron members are either not there yet, or busy setting up. Matt leaves him alone to set up his own camp site. For a few hours, he just gets to relax and catch up on some reading.

 

He doesn’t get dragged out again till dinner, which he won’t complain about. He’d never complain about Hunks food. He does complain after however, when Matt makes him stick around for the ‘band’ which is really just Lance and Pidge at a DJs table.

 

“You’re not leaving this table until you meet him” Matt warns him when he leaves to get him another water. They sit for a while and talk. Catch up a bit, talk work and events. Shiro considers Matt one of his closest friends because he can talk to the man every day, hours a day, but never run out of things to talk about. Shiro’s not a very extroverted person. He fakes it very well for the sake of the club, but he prefers to be alone, and he isnt very big on conversing with people. The mark of a good friend in his eyes is someone that he can talk to, but also wants to talk to, and can talk to for hours on end without problem. Strangers, other people, Shiro usually starts to flounder for words after a good thirty minutes.

Occasionally, as they talk, Matt will check his phone for texts. Most likely looking out for word from his Blade friend.

When it does finally light up, Matt groans in annoyance.

“I swear, Shiro, my dude is straight avoiding you” He rolls his eyes, but Shiro only shrugs. That was Matts mission, not his. He doesn’t care much if he meets the guy or not. He’ll do it for Matts sake. He does also find it odd that he’s never met someone who is so close with not just Matt, but also half of the other Voltron members. They’ve both known Matt since high school, and hang around him frequently, so it’s strange that they’ve never crossed paths.

“He says he’s busy right now, so we’ll have to catch up with him later. He might try and run from that too, but I swear you two will meet” Matt swears for what feels like the tenth time that day. He’s starting to think that’s the only reason he was invited to this Over-Night. Matt didn’t really want or care about Voltrons help, he just wanted to hook Shiro up with his Marmora buddy. Even though Shiro’s already expressed several times that trying to set him up with anyone is just about pointless, Shiro’s hopes are set on someone else and they both know it.

“Matt, I appreciate you trying, but I already told you-“He tries again, but Matt cuts him off him with a groan and wave of his hand.

“Yeah, I know. You’re saving yourself for your ‘red leathered sex angel’” Matt rolls his eyes, and it’s Shiro’s turn to groan.

“Could you please stop calling him that” He hides his face in his glass of water, a blush creeping across the bridge of his nose, burning hot beneath his scar. Matt won’t stop calling his mystery lover by weird titles. So far that, along with ‘anonymous blow job boy,’ have been Matts favorite names. Shiro hates both of them.

“I’ll stop calling him that when you stop being super gross about it. I’ll you’ve done for the last two weeks is complain and cry about him to me and if it goes on for another day I am going to get a restraining order” To be fair, Matt has every right to complain. Shiro has been extremely moody, and Matt is always the one who has to hear about it. At first the Poker-run meeting felt like a blessing. He got to see his mystery crush again, he also confirmed that he was single, and he learned that he had the name ‘Cherry Bomb’ which Shiro still thought was oddly hilarious and yet sexy at the same time. It was a name that fit the guy well.

But as time slowly passed after the event, Shiro’s mood worsened. He still had no information about ‘Cherry Bomb’, no way to find him, no way to contact him. Two weeks passed. Two weeks and each day was oddly painful, and not knowing when he would see him again was starting to eat away at him. All the encounters so far had been by chance.

Shiro was really hoping he’d be here. He was at the Poker run, so he must have some kind of affiliation to one of the local gangs. He wasn’t wearing a gang jacket, or a shirt, so he might just be a friend of someone. But he also had a name. Club names were usually only given to people inside the club, honorary members and close family or friends of the club don’t get names. Names are earned. So that means he has to be a part of a club. He’s not a Rebel. Matt would have said something if he was, right? He always would have seen him before. Shiro usually gets dragged along to Rebel events with Matt, so if his mystery guy was a Rebel too, he would have seen him. If he was from any club, the possibilities of them having met before are really high. Except for one. He has to be a Blade member. That would be the only way to explain both the Club name, and the appearance.

But they were at the Blade site earlier, and he didn’t see a single glimpse of Red Leather. He didn’t see it anywhere, and they had browsed the whole camp ground. It’s almost the end of the first night and he hasn’t seen him anywhere. He’s very quickly losing hope. There’s always the chance that he’s a late comer, and won’t be here until tomorrow, but that’s not very likely. Almost everyone is there the first day, if you cut a day you usually cut the last, not the first.

“Dude” Matts deep sigh brings Shiro’s thoughts back to earth. He looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, having completely forgotten what Matt said to him before.

“Dude, stop that. You’re making that weird sappy face again. It’s disgusting. You look like a love-sick teenager from some bad rom-com” Matt complains, shoving at Shiro’s shoulder.

“I Feel like one” he nods his head in agreement. He feels absolutely ridiculous for it, but he really does feel like a love-sick teenager, and he definitely feels like he’s in some kind of budget-less romantic comedy. All he’s been able to think about for weeks is that guy. Cherry Bomb has been plaguing every last thought, dream, and fantasy since they met. It’s driving Shiro absolutely insane. Every time he thinks about it, he just thinks about how he wants more. He wants more of him. Wants to touch him more, feel him more, spend more time, know him more. He just wants _more_. He wants him. It’s purely insane, but Shiro is very, very enamored by this gorgeous stranger.

“Ew, okay, I can’t take this anymore. I'm going to throw up if you keep making that face” Matt exaggerates a gagging sound, and Shiro rolls his eyes at him. Matt may joke, but on the inside, he is really happy for Shiro. He won’t straight up admit it, but Shiro can see it. Matt's happy that he’s finally found someone he likes. He’s just not happy that he has to deal with all Shiro’s overly detailed sexual stories, and all his whining. Shiro’s obsession also isn't going to stop him from trying to set him up with people that are actually tangible for more then a single night.

“Shiro, my dude, I think you could really use a drink” Matt says. Shiro looks down at the ice-cold glass of water he’s been nursing, perfectly content with it.

“I think im gonna stick with water tonight…”

“You know, there’s a portable bar over by the D.J table…” He adds on pointedly, but Shiro just shrugs.   
“Im good, I don’t feel up to drinking tonight” Matt lets out a loud, exasperated sigh, and reaches out to shift Shiro’s head in a specific direction, right towards the Voltron D.J booth, and to the little portable bar right next to it.

“Shiro. You need a drink” He repeats, slowly, and Shiro’s jaw nearly drops.

“Oh” he gasps. There, at the other end of the room, leaning onto the plastic bar top is none other then his red leathered beauty, but he’s missing his red. The classic jacket Shiro’s grown to love and to look for has been replaced by a black and violet Blade of Marmora t-shirt. His thick black hair has been pulled back into a tight pony-tail, and his eyes look dull, bored. His jaw is slack, and he absent minded chews at his lower lip. Shiro takes one look at him, and his heart flutters.

“So, what do you say Shiro? Should I go get us some drinks?” Matt asks, removing his hands from Shiro, and leaning back in his chair. Shiro can hear the smirk in his friend’s voice.

“You knew….” Is all Shiro can manage to say. Matt knew he was there. Matt was aware of his stranger’s presence the whole time. Matt knows who he is. And he kept it from Shiro. Matt has been messing with him the whole time. 

“I tried to tell you, you really ought to meet him…” Matt chuckles to himself.

“That’s the friend?” Shiro feels like punching himself in the face. The one time he doesn’t go along with Matt's escapades, it’s the one time it would have actually had an outcome he wanted.

“I’ve been trying to get you two together for months. Although, seems like you didn't really need me for that” Shiro’s about to bang his head against the table to get Matt to stop laughing, but suddenly, the whole world stops spinning.

“Oops, looks like we’ve been caught” Violet eyes have locked onto Shiro’s gaze. Even with all the space between them, and all the people crossing in between, they’ve managed to hold onto each-other. He feels his throat go dry as wide eyes scan him with a jumble of emotions that Shiro would need years to figure out.

“You’re looking really thirsty, buddy. Stay here, I’ll get you something to quench that” Matt pats Shiro’s shoulder lightly as he pushes out his chair and makes his way across the room before Shiro could even object. He watches in absolute horror as Matt makes his way to the little bar and leans over it to whisper to Cherry-Bomb. Those violet eyes finally leave Shiro to address Matt. They talk a bit, little things that Shiro can’t make out. His mystery lover laughs, and Shiro’s heart thumps against his chest, trying it’s hardest to pop right out and race to the other side of the room where it’s decided it belongs. He wants to hear that laugh. It’s too loud out, between all the people and the music, he can’t hear it. But he can see it. It shakes his shoulder and his head tilts just slightly, and his face wrinkles. It’s the cutest thing Shiro’s ever seen and he’s dyeing to hear the sound that goes with it. He would bet his life savings that his laugh is just as precious as his expression is.

Then he’s reaching under the bar, and mixing up some kind of drink, before taking off his apron, and tossing it somewhere below.

Next thing Shiro knows, there’s two purple plastic solo cups on the table in front of him, and one very beautiful guy sitting in his lap.

“Heard you were thirsty?” His voice, low and a tad raspy as always. It makes shivers run down his spine and he lean back into his chair to give the boy more room. His arms naturally go to wrap around his lover’s waist, and the boy grins down at him.

“Nothing you can’t fix” He promises him with a sly grin of his own.

“Oh my god, please stop. I brought you over here, so you could finally talk, not do whatever the hell that is” Matt interrupts, wildly gesturing to their smooshed together position.

“You know what, you deserve this Matt. You knew who he was, the entire time, and you let me suffer” Shiro chuckles, shamelessly leaning forward to nuzzle his face into the soft skin of a pale neck.

“I’ve still got leverage Shiro, you still don’t know his name, and I’m the only one who will give it to you” Matt bargains. The body in his lap tenses at the mention of his real name, and Shiro eases that tension with a soft kiss under his ear. He figures there’s a reason he doesn’t have a name yet, and he’s going to respect that, no matter how much it’s killing him to know. Matt's probably told him at some point, somewhere subconsciously he probably does know already, but he can’t actually think of it. But that’s okay.

“Im fine with that. He’ll tell me when he’s ready, right baby?” He places another kiss, and the other shivers, and lets out a sigh of relief. He shifts in Shiro’s lap, and rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder.

“That’s gross. Your gross. I'm gonna go talk to Katie” Matt jokes, pushing out his chair, and taking his drink with him as he saunters off to leave them alone.

“You okay, baby?” Shiro asks, after a couple minutes of silence, the other just lying in his lap, hiding his face. He nods his head, and Shiro smiles, tightening his grip on the slender waist. It feels surreal, but natural at the same time and it feels fantastic. He feels like this is something they’ve done a million times before, and something he’d be willing to do a million times more.

“Im just tired” he sighs into Shiro’s shirt, and he hums in response.

“Want me to take you back to your campground?” Shiro asks, hesitantly. Because he doesn’t just want to take him there, he wants to stay with him. He wants to lay him down and wrap him up in his arms and hold him all night. The one night they did have together was phenomenal, the best sleep Shiro’s ever gotten and he’s dyeing to feel that again. He’s dyeing to feel his lover in his arms again. The comfort of knowing he’s not alone. Knowing that the most beautiful guy he’s ever seen is safely resting in his hold.

“Please” He responds, and it’s almost a whimper, a plea. Shiro doesn’t hesitate to push out his chair, and stands, trying to comfortably move his tired partner to a better carrying position. His arms wrap weakly around Shiro’s neck, and his legs around Shiro’s waist. He’s like a large koala. It’s the most adorable thing Shiro’s ever seen a grown man do. He can’t help but laugh a bit and rest his arms under his thighs to help him stay up comfortably. He abandons the drinks they never even had a chance to get to and starts stumbling away from the dance grounds.

“Where are you camped at, baby?” Shiro asks, wandering almost aimlessly. If he’s going in the wrong direction, it’ll be a stretch to turn around. He could always just bring him to his own campsite….

“Blades…” He mumbles into Shiro’s neck with a yawn, and Shiro nods. The Blades were right next to his own campsite, and that wasn’t too far away from the main grounds.

“Which is yours?” He asks, as he gets closer to the Marmora’s designated site, but there’s at least ten different tents, and several different trucks and trailers.

“Baby? Cherry-Bomb? You listening? I need to know which ones yours?” Shiro repeats himself when he doesn’t get an answer.

“By the big tree. Should be a red Indian road-master next to it…” He mumbles finally, and Shiro looks around the mess for that bike and for that tree till he spots a decently sized tent tucked away in the corner. He makes his way through the mess of bikes and cars and tents, passing by a few other Blade members who look at him a bit quizzically, but say nothing until he makes it into the tent. It’s a struggle to get open with his arms full, so he has to set sleeping beauty down to get the zipper undone. Once it’s open, the other waists no time to crawl inside.

“Well uh” Shiro clears his throat, quickly looking away when Cherry Bomb starts pulling his shirt off.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night?” it’s such an awkward sentence to push out, he doesn’t want to say it but he forces himself to, to the point where he barely recognizes it as his own voice. He takes three steps away from the tent, before he hears the familiar rustling of fabric.

“Shiro?” His whole-body freezes at the sound, and he whips around. Hearing that beautiful voice forming his name had his heart thrumming, but when he looks back to find his nameless lover poking his head out of the tent, shirt disregarded, and pants already unbuttoned, and slightly yanked down.

“Yeah?” He chokes out, trying his best not to stare, but the clear definition of his toned chest, and the intense gaze in those purple eyes have Shiro positively shook.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He deadpans

“back to my campsite?”

“Shiro, I didn’t make you carry me all the way back here for nothing, get your ass inside this tent” He commands, and there’s no possible way Shiro could ever say no to that, or anything he says in general.

That is how Shiro ends up half naked and pushing into a plushy air-mattress. He’s not complaining though, because even with only one flimsy blanket to cover them both, He’s incredibly warm and comfortable. His lover has wormed his way into Shiro’s side, twining their legs together, one arm draped over Shiro’s waist, and his head rests on Shiro’s chest. Shiro’s got one arm underneath him, gently dragging his fingers up and down his bare side, carefully caressing the soft skin. He’s so close that he might as well just lay directly on top of Shiro, but Shiro might just have a heart attack if he does that, so he’ll stick with this. His hearts beating frantically enough as it is, and his face is burning knowing that his lover can probably hear it.

This isn't at all what he planned for the night, and he certainly didn’t expect their next meeting to go like this. He figured they might actually talk for once, or be a bit more… uh… sexual, like last time. He certainly didn’t expect to say a handful of sentences to each-other, and then end up back at his tent, cuddling him to sleep. He didn’t know how badly he wanted or needed this, but he does. He wouldn’t have complained if they got physical again, and he would have loved to finally have a real conversation with him, but this? This is perfect. It feels perfect.

It’s not at all what he expected to happen, but he wouldn’t dare have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag yourself: I am Matt.   
> Also!   
> If you were Matt what kind of wild names would you come up with for Keith? I honestly have two much fun writing the Holts.   
> Also!   
> Shiro may or May not be getting Keiths actual name soon~   
> Hope you liked the chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Comments always make my day! They also encourage me(and remind me) to write.


	9. Make fun of Keith Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some good natured, friendly teasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the chapter! Please let me know your thoughts

‘Over-Nighters’ are one of the few biker events that Keith actually likes. Poker runs, dinners and fundraisers are not usually his scene. Too many people, limited space, not enough freedom, and he almost always had to be sober, so he could drive either his own sorry ass home, or his parent’s sorry asses home. Luckily for Keith, The Blades don’t really do those kinds of big public events. So, he usually only gets stuck going when Matt drags him along to one. At least he’s managed to drag the rest of The Blades down with him now.

This time around, about two weeks after the poker run, Matts gone ahead and thrown an ‘Over-Night’ for the Rebels, and he’s also gone and recruited every other gang he knows. After a four-hour phone call that started at eleven pm, Matt convinced Keith to set up a travel bar. Sort of like a food truck, but booze instead of food, and there’s no truck, just a shitty portable plastic bar. After four hours of Matt strategically listing to him the pros and cons of the bar, and all the benefits it would provide for both The Rebels, and The Blades, Keith got so bored and delusional in his sleep deprived state that he just gave in and said yes. Matt also conveniently left out the part about Shiro and the rest of Voltron not just attending but providing services as well. In fact, Keiths mini bar is going to positioned right next to the Voltron D.J set, and The Blades designated camp site? Surprise, Surprise, it is right next to Voltrons designated area!

Keith didn’t realize this until the day of, when he rode into the massive camp ground, and saw a few of Voltrons flags (flat black, a roaring lion smack in the middle with a beautiful rainbow mane) floating just a couple feet away from the single Blade of Marmora banner.

The first thing Keith did, upon realizing the awful, literal position, was to carefully set up his tent in the most inconspicuous spot. Hidden carefully between a tree, his father’s truck, and their bikes. It wasn’t the most convenient, he can already tell it’s going to be difficult to get his things in and out, despite it being a decently sized tent, and it’s going to be dreadfully cold in there at night.

The second thing Keith did, was skitter off to find Matt and deck him in the gut for pulling what he is, but Keith got one foot out of his camp site and caught sight of Matt walking with Shiro directly towards him. He cursed and all but launched himself into his tent. He wrestled around his air-mattress to find his phone shoved underneath it, and he sends a text towards Matt as quickly as he possibly can.

 **If you dare come in a ten-foot radius of me with in the next ten hours, I can and will kill you in your sleep**.

Not a second later he hears the classic double beeping of Matts cell notifications, followed by a loud snort.

“Sorry Shiro my dude, guess my friend isnt here yet, guess you’ll have to meet him later” Matts voice is unnecessarily loud, and pointed. He’s making sure Keith hears.

“Oh, uh? Okay?” Shiros voice follows, it’s softer, quieter, and very confused. The second he hears it, Keith sighs, and shoves his face into the plush mattress.

Keith may or may not be avoiding Shiro. He’s realized that the man looks for him with two things; The Black Crotch-Rocket bike, and his red leather jacket. So, Keith may have been refraining from using both of those things. Thankfully, Keith does have another bike. An old cherry red cruiser his parents helped him buy back in high school. A classic Indian Road-Master that they custom painted into a shining bright red with black details. Red was his baby, the one he favored for long rides and for events. He loves Kitty, his little crotch-rocket, he loves her speed and her agility. But she’s more for racing, and for zipping him around town, to and from work. So, for the past few weeks, he’s just been driving Red, and he didn’t think twice about bringing her to the Over-Night, because he brings her to every event. He also ditched his red leather for a while. He either opted out of it, or simply shrugged on a black leather jacket. While he did stash it away in his bag somewhere, he doesn’t have to worry about it this weekend. At an event like this, everyone is constantly representing their club, which means Keith will almost constantly be wearing his Blade vest every night. With those two factors, he should be able to blend into the crowds fairly well. The rest of the time, well, he’s just going to be really careful. 

And he can’t lie, part of him is hoping to ruin into Shiro. The rest of him is dreading it. It’s about 25% excitement, 75% fear for him right now. He knows this is it. The situation they’re in is too public. Thin fabric walls of a tent are not exactly private enough for what they usually do. They’re going to have to come face to face. They’re going to have to confront eachother, and Keith knows if he talks, Shiro’s going to want an explanation, possibly even a phone number, and he is definitely going to want Keiths name. But the thing about that, is that Keith isn’t willing to give Shiro any of those things. Especially not his name because that’s just going to tip the ice berg. The simplest way Keith can put it is; “If you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to want a glass of milk” and Keith doesn’t know if he wants to give away his cookie, and the idea of having to share his milk is absolutely terrifying for him but the worst part is that he knows if Shiro asks, he’s not going to tell him no. If Shiro asks Keith for a cookie, Keiths gonna end up giving him everything in the entire damn fridge.

That’s a really, really bad idea. Because what if Shiro doesn’t like cookies, or what if he’s lactose intolerant? What if he doesn’t like everything that’s in the fridge? What if he just takes everything that’s in the fridge but doesn’t share it with Keith and leaves him starving? What if refuses to re-stock it after he’s taken everything, leaving Keith completely empty?

The idea of this is so overwhelming to Keith and he can’t stop himself from worrying about it. He doesn’t think Shiro is that kind of guy, but that’s not going to stop him from worrying about it. Besides, you never know, things happen. So, By the time Keiths dad comes to get him so he can help set up The Marmora Bar, Keiths practically screaming in his mattress, very close to tears, and unusually hungry.

Amazingly enough, the work does help him keep his mind off of Shiro, and his moral dilemma of whether or not he’s ready to face the Champion yet.

However, Keiths tired. Keith is so, so, very tired.  He had to cover someone else’s shift at the bar and ended up closing shop for him. Between that and having to get up insanely early to help his dads prep everything for the over-night, Keith got two hours of sleep, on top of the previous night in which he only got four, and the day before that he got three. He probably hasn’t slept more then a total of 15 hours for the whole week. He just can’t sleep. He keeps waking up, he keeps having nightmares, he constantly has something to do, and at this point, he’s exhausted.

By ‘this point’, Keith means at about ten o’clock, when everyone has finally arrived, has eaten, and are currently out on the big clearing that is designated as the dance floor. He’s leaning against the portable bar, doing his best to enjoy the music that’s thrumming loudly from the speakers next to him, and dully conversing with his fellow blade member, Regris, who seems just as board as Keith.

Most people bring their own booze to this kind of event. Some people are buying, mainly for the sake of the cause or because they’re too lazy to go back to their campgrounds for their own booze, or because they want to flirt with one of the bartenders. Keith would do just about anything to return to his tent right now and sleep for the next ten hours. But with his luck, and his sleeping habits, there is no way that plan is going to happen.

“Hey, Cherry Bomb” Regris nudges Keith with his elbow, drawing his attention up. “I hate to tell you this, but it looks like Lover Boy is war strategizing” Reg laughs, and Keiths head snaps straight forward, eyes darting across the crowd to find Matt. He’s sitting at a small plastic table, looking right at him with the most devious grin on his lips. But that’s not the only set of eyes on him. Right next to Matt sits Shiro, who’s staring directly at Keith as well. But he doesn’t look as cocky or as mischievous as their friend does. Shiro’s got a deep blush spreading across the bridge of his nose and all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks bashful and nervous. Keith watches in absolute horror as Matt acknowledges the shared eye contact, and slowly pushes out his chair.

As Matt inches closer, Keith rushes to make a quick decision, knowing that his time is up, and it’s time to face his fate. The only conclusion he’s come to is that he may need to alter his plans for the night.

It’s all too easy to convince Shiro to carry him back to his tent. To be fair, he was going to be a bit more seductive in his pursuit. He planned on tricking Shiro and bribing him with the possibility of something sexy. But once he was actually in Shiro’s lap and enveloped by all his warmth and naturally comforting aura, he realized just how tired he really was. Then Shiro had to go and be all dumb and sweet, soothing all the fears that were rumbling in Keiths core, promising him that he didn’t have to give his own name until he was ready. After that he just absolutely melted into Shiro, he couldn’t help it. That’s just the effect Shiro had on him.

Something there had to be mutual, because when Keith claimed he was tired, Shiro offered to carry him all the way across the campground without hesitation. It was a sweet and noble act that made Keiths heart thud. He was going to hear so much shit for it the next day. He knows he will. He knows they passed a few other Blades on the way, but they should also all know that if they say anything, they’ll end up eating Keiths first for lunch.

Shiro, the dense idiot that he is, also tries to walk away from Keith. He honestly thought Keith made him carry his sleep-deprived ass all the way there, for nothing. At least he obeyed right away when Keith told him to get in the tent. It was a little awkward fitting them both in there, undressing and trying to get comfortable but they did it and it was certainly worth it.

 Keith expected to freeze to death at night, but he woke feeling warmer and more comfortable then he would in his own bed. All thanks to a thick, muscular arm that had a military grade grip on his waist, and a broad, well-defined chest that was substituting in the place of a pillow.

“Are you awake?” Shiro asks, but Keith only groans in response. Yes, he’s awake, but at what cost?

“We should probably get up” Shiro laughs, but Keith stubbornly shakes his head against Shiro’s chest. Getting up means leaving Shiro’s embrace, and he’s not willing to do that yet. He wants to stay here, in his arms, in this moment, for as long as he possibly can. Because it’s simple and it’s sweet and it’s intimate without being sexual. It’s perfect and it’s ideal. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll get to have it after today.

“If we don’t get up now, they’ll run out of breakfast” Shiro tries to bribe him, and while the thought of food is tempting, he has something so much more delicious and satisfying right now.

“Hunk always saves me a plate” he argues, and it’s only semi-true, Hunk tries to save him a plate, but it doesn’t always happen, but honestly, he could care less about breakfast right now. He shifts his head up to give Shiro a challenging smile, which earns him a laugh.

“Alright, Cherry bomb, five more minutes” the sound of his nickname on Shiro’s tongue makes him shiver, and momentarily, he wonders what his real name would sound like in that voice.

“Make it ten…” he counters, pushing up to press his lips to Shiro’s in a quick, delicate kiss “…and I’ll make it worth your while” Shiro grins, and lets his hand trail up Keiths spine, tracing slowly till it locks into the hair behind his head.

“Now how could I say no to that?” He teases, drawing Keith in for another, much longer kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

“Where have you two been all morning?” Matt asks with a knowing smirk when Keith and Shiro finally arrive at their breakfast table, thankfully in time to still get a plate of food.

The table consists of only Matt, Pidge and Lance (because the other members of Team Voltron are currently on cooking and clean up duty), and the couple receives a somewhat disturbing welcome from the three.

“Sleeping” Keith deadpans as he pulls out his chair and sets his food down on the table. Shiro, of course, chooses the seat next to him.

“That’s understandable, I am sure you were up pretty late” Matt winks, Lance makes a horrified-disgusted face, and Pidge fake gags.

“We went to bed really early” Shiro amends, and Keith nods in agreement as he shoves a fork full of biscuits-and-gravy in his mouth.

“What? Why? Is K- “someone kicks Lance under the table, and he hisses before quickly correcting himself “is cherry bomb really that bad?”

“We didn’t have sex, Lance” Keith rolls his eyes and Lance raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Okay, again, was it just because you’re bad at it or beca-Ow! Pidge!” Lance curses mid-sentence, whipping his head to look at the younger biker next to him. Pidge just grins, and sips away at her coffee. Keith would like to thank Pidge for having his back, but he knows she probably didn’t for the sole opportunity of kicking Lance again.

“No, Lance. We were both just really tired” Shiro defends, but for some reason the excuse sounds very odd coming from him. To Keith, it almost sounds like disappointment. Like he was hoping for what they were implying.

“Hold on, hold on” Matt shoots up a hand to halt the conversation, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you guys really trying to tell me that you” He points a finger at Keith from across the table “you crawled into his lap last night, like some kind of horny, touch deprived kraken, so that he could cuddle you in your sleep?” he exaggerates, sounding as wounded and as offended as if Keith had kept some sort of million-dollar secret from him. However, he knows Matt genuinely is annoyed. Matts been trying to get Keith and Shiro together for weeks, and he finally brings them face to face and makes them confront each other, and instead of talking or even finally solving their insane sexual tension, they just literally fall asleep together.

“Exactly” Keith answers as he locks eyes with Matt. The Rebel leader groans and narrows his eyes.

“Why are you like this?” He sighs, and Keith just laughs.

“Why is it so hard to believe that we just slept?” Shiro asks, to which all three of their friends frown. It’s still odd to think about. They have so many mutual friends, no introductions were needed when they sat down, they just knew, and yet, it took them this long to meet.

“Because he doesn’t cuddle” Pidge is the first to answer, and now it’s Shiro’s turn to frown.

“Pidge means the dude would rather eat his own fist then let someone cuddle him” Lance fills in, and when Shiro glances at Keith for clarification, Keith just shrugs, and shoves another piece of sausage into his mouth. Technically, Lance isnt wrong. Keith just isnt a cuddling kind of person. He excepts very few forms of physical affection and cuddling usually is not one of them.

“Besides his parents when he was little, and well, now you, there’s only one other human being in existence that’s experienced it” Pidge lowers her voice and leans into the table as if she were sharing some top, highly classified secret that’s highly detrimental to the world. Keith nearly bites his fork in half.

“Who?” Shiro asks, jealousy already evident in his voice. “Pidge” Keith warns, but he is ignored as if not heard.

“Me!” Matt says, sounding more triumphant and proud then he should. “What?” Shiro’s jaw nearly drops in confusion, and shock.

“We were drunk!” Keith groans, much to Matt’s delight.

“We have the pictures to prove it!” Pidge and Lance speak in unison, as Pidge quickly pulls out her phone.

“This was the first time” she shoves the phone to Shiro’s face, and Keith can just barely catch a glimpse of his head sprawled out over Matts stomach.

“This was the second time” The second time is almost the same, but reversed, as it’s Matt clinging to Keith, head resting on his gut.

“I call this one the ‘Titanic,’ for some reason, they both get really clingy when drunk” Pidge swipes and a new picture pulls up on the screen. Keith tries not to look, he’s seen it enough times. Pidge, Lance and Matt all have a copy, and they all love to remind him of it. Matt is passed out on the couch, his face buried in the couch cushion, one arm dangling over the side. Keith is on the floor, in one of the most awkward and uncomfortable positions ever, sprawled out on his back, one arm reaches up to cling onto the hand that Matt left hanging. Neither of them knows exactly how they even got into that position, they don’t even remember drinking that night. They do remember how much their bodies ached when they finally woke up, and how good it felt to stretch after that. The picture Is Pidges personal favorite, and she sends it to Keith frequently.

“I call this the double decker” It’s Lances turn to change the picture to one of them sleeping back to back. Though, they aren’t sleeping on their sides. Keith is laying on the floor, on his stomach, face resting on his arms. Matt is laying directly on top of Keith, back against Keiths, arms dangling over his sides. How either of them actually even slept like that is astounding.

“This one is my favorite” Matt pulls out his own phone to find the picture of them spooning. “They drunk argued for twenty minutes because he wouldn’t let Matt be the big spoon” Pidge laughs, remembering the exact night that happened. The poor girl, being Matts younger sister, and living with him, constantly ends up hearing their drunk babbles, but that’s also how she gets all her black-mail photos.

“It was my idea to spoon, so I should have been the big spoon!” Matt pretends to argue, fake pouting.

“Do you not like being the little spoon?” Shiro asks with a laugh, he seems to be enjoying the showing of Keiths embarrassing moments. He’s moved on from that twinge of Jealousy that was present at the beginning and seems to find it quite funny now.

“I like being the little spoon if you’re the big spoon”

“Ew, could you like, not flirt while I am still eating?” Lance whines, but he’s only met with laughter.

 

 

Apparently, it’s ‘Make fun of Keith day’ because they continue to roast him, even when Shiro is not present, and they go the extra mile to roast him when Shiro is there. Shiro seems to enjoy ‘make fun of Keith day’, because he subsequently gets a tad more background on the elusive enigma he’s hunting.

At Lunch Keith makes himself a soda, because it’s just way too early in the day to start drinking, and the second he sets the drink down, someone has to say something.  
“Are you five?” Lance asks, eyeing Keiths freshly made ‘Shirley-temple’.

“Do you lack taste buds?” Keith retorts, taking one long, glorious sip of the cherry flavored soda.

“This is why they named him ‘Cherry-bomb’ Matt says, giving Shiro a pointed look.

“First of all, my drink at the bar is not a Shirley-temple, second of all, the drinks named after me, not the other way around” Keith corrects, but Matt ignores him in favor of explaining to Shiro.

“His signature drink at his dad’s bar is ‘The Cherry-Bomb,’ and I don’t care how much booze is in it, it’s still a Shirley-Temple. I know the drink came after him, his name actually comes from those cheap candies you get at the gas station. Red, usually a thin, hard shell with a soft center, sour but eventually sweet” Keith honestly isnt sure if Matt is complimenting him or insulting him, but either way he’s having none of it.

“That’s not how I got my name either Matt, and you know it” He complains.

“How did you get your name?” Shiro wonders, offering a soft smile, and his eyes sparkle with curiosity, but he knows Shiro wouldn’t argue if he said he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Literal Cherry-Bombs” Keiths says bluntly but judging by the way Shiro raises one thick eyebrow in confusion, he needs more clarification.

“When I was prospecting, I got tasked with sabotaging another gangs meeting. I made these miniature explosives. They were these little round red firecrackers, and I sent a whole bunch of them flying into the ‘Garrison’ Club House. That is why the called me Cherry Bomb” He explains, and Shiro looks very amused up until he mentions the Garrison gang by name, then Shiro’s whole body goes rigid. He looks like he wants to ask Keith a question, say something, but he doesn’t. He lets it go.

“Well” He clears his throat a bit, and sneaks in to give Keith a small kiss, despite their friend’s persistent complaints “I think it suits you well, Cherry Bomb” and Keith’s never been so fond of that name as he is when it’s rolling off of Shiro’s tongue in between kisses.

 

 

 

 

They have to part ways until after Dinner. They both have clubs and people to manage. Keith was supposed to meet him for Dinner but got stuck helping them set the bar up again. He was freed an hour after, when everyone starts flooding towards the dance floor. He could see Shiro across the crowd, once again conversing with Matt, and a few other rebels. He stares at him, through all the people and all the movement he watches Shiro, trying to calculate in his mind the best plan of attack to get Shiro’s hands back on his hips.

“Dude” Lance’s elbow suddenly finds itself nestled in Keiths side. “I hate to break it to you, but Shiro isnt a telepath. You gotta go over there if you want to talk to him”

“I don’t want to talk” Keith shakes his head, and his friend makes a gagging sound.

“Oh gross. Fine, tell him you want to dance then”

“What if he doesn’t want to dance?” Dancing sounds like a good idea. It’s close, intimate, and gives them a good excuse to openly touch eachother.

“Then drag him out there anyway”

“I don’t want to force him” He worries, to which his fellow biker, affectionately nick-named ‘Sharpshooter’ just rolls his eyes.

“Then make him come to you” He suggests, but Keith doesn’t understand exactly how he’s supposed to do that. Like Lance said, Shiro isnt telepathic. Unless he gets lucky, Shiro isnt just gonna waltz over here out of no where and ask him to dance.

“Do you trust me?” Lance suddenly asks, Keith snorts loudly and gives him the blandest look he can muster. Trusting Lance is usually a roller coaster of possibilities. You never know exactly what he’s going to do, or how well it will actually turn out. In a serious pinch? Yeah, Keith actually would trust Lance to have his back. But right now? In this situation. No way.

“Don’t give me that look Mullet. I am trying to help you out. You want your man to dance with you? I’ll get him to dance with you. Give me five minutes” Lance complains, and Keith’s heart stutters when Shiro is referred to as ‘his’. He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s a lie, because he knows Shiro doesn’t actually belong to him, or because he knows that’s what he wants.

Lance gives him a knowing look, no longer waiting for Keiths response before disappearing for the D.J booth.

This is probably a bad idea. Like, a really bad idea. But Keith glances at Shiro from across the room again, and he can see that happy sparkle in his eye as he laughs and his stomach twists. There’s a 90% chance Lance is about to make an utter fool out of him, but if there’s that odd 10% chance that it works, and he gets to feel Shiro around him again, then it’ll be worth it.

“Alright, Mullet? You ready to attract some attention?” Lance slides back into his spot next to Keith, who takes one more glance at Shiro before sighing in defeat.

“Let’s do it” He gives in to whatever crazy plan Lance has, and The Latino boy pumps his fist in victory.

“Don’t worry, Keithy-boy, I promise, I’ll get you something a lot better then cuddles”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter, i had fun writing it. Please let me know what you think, comments always make my day, and they motivate me to write more!  
> Also the 'over-nighter' is gonna last for another 2-3 chapters, and then we'll move on to another mini plot.  
> I think I have a tiny bit too much fun writing Keith/Matt friendship. Oh well. I love Matt Holt and you can pry him from my Cold Dead hands.


	10. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A black-haired beauty with big dark eyes" Night Moves by Bob Seger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyeeee look whose back from the dead!!! Be sure to read the end notes to find out why I hate myself!!

“Complain all you want now Shiro” Matt tosses up his hands in an exaggerated display “Call me all the names you want, say you hate me, whatever, but when the wedding rolls around, I better get to be your best man” He points an accusing finger at Shiro, who is trying his hardest not to bang his head against the wall.

“Matt!” He warns, because this is the third time Matt has mentioned something far too intimate for what Shiro’s current relationship status is, which is ‘Complicated,’ to say the least. His Rebel friend however, thinks it’s very simple. “You like him, he likes you, end of story” The auburn haired young man claps his hands together to emphasize his point. 

“I don’t know if he likes me like that, Matt” Shiro shakes his head. He assumes Cherry-Bomb Is attracted to him, but there’s still a wall between them. Still an off-putting distance that Shiro doesn’t know what to do with.

“Seriously, Shiro? I don’t think he made out with you in a back-alley, sucked your dick, and kidnapped you for cuddles, because he hates you?”

“No, I don’t think he likes me to the same degree. He still won’t let up any personal information, he won’t even tell me his name Matt” He still doesn’t have a real actual name. He knows he knows it. It’s somewhere locked in his subconscious, right on the tip of his tongue but it refuses to reveal itself to him. He knows he’s heard it. Hell, Matt has probably said it to him a hundred times in the last week alone, but now no one will say it. Lance nearly slipped and used it and he got kicked for it. They’re all putting in a conscious effort to keep his name a secret for a reason.

“He doesn’t want you to know his name because he likes you” Matt clicks his tongue and shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in Shiro.

“Matt that makes no sense”

“Dude Trust me. I know him. I know how that weird little mind of his works. He’s keeping his name and life from you because he likes you, and he’s afraid that you are the one who doesn’t reciprocate the feelings.” Matt tries to explain and Shiro’s heart thuds against his chest because _how?_ How could it not be clear that Shiro likes him? That Shiro is absolutely enamored by him? What ever Shiro can do to ease his lovers worries, he will.

“So, he’s just trying to protect himself?” He clarifies, and Matt nods.“How do I prove to him that I like him?” Shiro asks, because unfortunately Matt seems to be the closest person to his object of affection, and if anyone can help him figure out how to win Cherry-Bomb over, it’s gonna be Matt.

“Like who?” a new voice chimes in. Shiro’s head bolts up to lock eyes with Nyma, a tall girl with large blue eyes and long blond hair tied into two thick braids. She wears tattered blue jeans and a loose fitting ‘Rebel’ tank top to show off her affiliation. She’s a newer member of the gang, and Shiro’s only met her a few times but he’s heard a few stories from Matt, and one very hilarious story from Lance.

“Cherry-Bomb” Matt fills her in, and she turns to look at Shiro with a pity. “Oouch, good luck with that, big guy” She pats his shoulder, and he can’t help but laugh along with Matt.

“That bad, huh?” He winces, starting to get a tad nervous about the relationship he’s gunning for. “Nah, you picked a good one. Just saying, the kids not exactly known for romance” She shrugs, and Shiro takes it. He can’t judge there, because he’s not really known for it either. It has him curious though, what is his Cherry-Bomb known for?

“Anyway, have either of you seen Rollo? He left to get me a drink like ten minutes ago” Rollo is Nymas…. Well, to be honest, Shiro isnt sure what he is to her. They could be related, probably siblings or cousins. They could be dating. Or they could just be best friends. No one really knows. Regardless of why, they are almost always together.

“He’s probably off picking a fight with Lance somewhere” Matt suggests, which causes a round of laughter, because it’s probably true.

“Hold on, what are they playing? Wow, Maybe Rollo really did get to Lance” The Rebel leader points out with a chuckle, and for once Shiro stops to pay attention to the music. He recognizes the musical intro to ‘Night Moves’ by Bob Seger and he knows something is up.

“No way, Rollo wouldn’t request this” Nyma disagrees. “But I would” Shiro adds, eyes quickly scanning the area by the D.J booth. Lance knows Shiro loves Bob Seger, and he frequently makes fun of Shiro for it. The only reason he would be playing it now, is to get Shiro’s attention.

His eyes finally land on in a slightly crowded corner by the D.J set up, and his blood begins to boil.

“Oh, guess we found Rolo…” and Shiro huffs because yeah, they did find Rollo. They found Rolo with a laugh in his throat and his hands on slender hips that don’t belong to him. Rollo’s got his hands-on Cherry Bomb, who looks a little uncomfortable and unsure, but he laughs along regardless and Shiro’s gut twists uncomfortably.

The lyrics booming from the speaker strangely feel like they’re haunting him, Matts laughter certainly doesn’t help.

“You might wanna go claim what’s yours Shiro” He nudges Shiro in the side with his elbow, but Shiro simply narrows his eyes at the sight. Technically Cherry-Bomb isnt his, he has no right to butt in, so even though he wants to follow Matts advice, he doesn’t think he can. Until he notices Rollo’s hand slip around to rest on his lower back and Cherry-Bomb laughs uncomfortably.

Then Shiro’s pushing through the crowd, trying to make it to his lover as quickly as possible without making a scene.

“Rollo-“He barely gets out the Rebels name before Rollo’s whipping his head around to look at him with relief.

“Shiro! Dude! Do me a favor and cut in, yeah? I was supposed to get Nyma a drink like 15 minutes ago and If I am not back soon she’ll kick my ass. Thanks”, Rolo literally pushes a shocked Cherry-Bomb out of his arms, and into Shiro’s. He gives a two fingered solute and a wink before taking off towards the bar. Just under the music, Shiro can hear a familiar laugh, and things start to click in his head.

“You know” He whispers, leaning in low so only The Blade member now securely wrapped up in his arms can hear him. “If you really wanted to dance with me, you could have just asked” he teases. The only response he receives is an amused snort, and for Cherry-bomb to lean into his touch.

“Didn’t know if you wanted to” He hums, resting his arms gently on Shiro’s shoulders. “I am not really one for dancing, but for you? Gladly” Shiro admits, and his partner just leans further into him.

“We don’t have to dance” He offers, dark eyes sparkling like stars under the cheap hanging lights. “This is all I really wanted” Plush lips pull up into a sly grin and Shiro can’t possibly stop himself from swooping down to steal a quick kiss from him.

“Again, all you had to do was ask” Shiro mumbles against his lips as he tries to give Shiro a kiss in return.

“Again, didn’t know If you wanted to”

“I always want to hold you, Baby” Cherry-Bomb hums in delight, resting his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder. Briefly, Shiro wonders if he can hear how rapid his heartbeat is.

They sway lightly together, even though it doesn’t really fit the music. Neither of them are concerned with the music anymore, or the people around them. They focus solely on touching the other. One of Shiro’s hands rests comfortably on a slim hip while the other travels gently up and down his spine. His lover melts into the touch and it encourages his fingers to continue.

It’s incredible how soft he turns at Shiro’s touch. Cherry-Bomb is all rigid and sharp edges until the second Shiro touches him. Then all that tension collapses and he just turns so soft in Shiro’s arms, and Shiro loves it. He loves the physical affect he has on his lover because they have the exact same effect on Shiro. One look from those beautiful dark eyes and the metal armor Shiro likes to wear as skin comes crumbling down.

“I think I am going to get a drink, you want anything?” The song ends, and Shiro honestly doesn’t know if it’s the song they started to or not, because all he can focus on is Cherry-bomb pulling out of his hold.

He looks as disappointed to be separating as Shiro feels, and the moment looks a lot more romantic then it should. They’re outside, only lit up by fading yellow Christmas lights and some patio lamps. The dirt they stand on is constantly getting kicked up as people walk and dance. They’re surrounded by dozens of other people, most or all some stage of drunk. The air smells like mud and sweat and booze. Being so close to summer it’s near 80 degrees out, even at night, and there isnt a single breeze. It’s uncomfortable. The whole thing is uncomfortable, but all the adults are having too much fun, and have had too many drinks to care.

Shiro doesn’t care because Cherry-Bomb somehow still looks beautiful. He couldn’t care less about what’s going on around him, he only cares about what’s in front of him. All he cares about is the gorgeous boy with slightly sweat dampened black hair and large violet eyes that seem to reflect the night sky in it’s entirety. He cares more about that porcelain skin glowing under the tinted hanging lights, and the plush red lips pushed out into a pout.

He resists the urge to sweep back those messy locks, and instead rests his hand on a near bare shoulder.

“A water would be nice, thank you” Cherry-Bomb gives a low hum, as if considering, as if he’s ready to argue, but simply nods his head instead.

“Alright. I’ll be right back” He leans in, dragging his lips against Shiro in an almost-kiss. “Try not to get into any trouble while I am gone, alright?” He teases, voice low and sweet and Shiro’s never had much of a sweet tooth but now he’s craving badly. There’s a really, really long list of words and phrases he would love to hear in that voice compiling in Shiro’s head now.

“No promises” Shiro teases back with a wink, earning him a sly smile. He watches his crush as he struts away, and not a minute later does Shiro find himself glad that he never actually made a promise, because if he did, well then Cherry-Bomb would be highly disappointed in him.

 

 

\-------

 

 

Keith is just barely approaching his little portable bar, completely ready to ignore Shiro’s request for a non-alcoholic drink when he hears the shouts. His stomach sinks with the first catch of the sound, knowing instantly that something is wrong. He whips around and scans the crowd, and very quickly does he catch sight of the commotion. Right smack in the middle of the dance floor is a fight. He sighs in relief when he doesn’t recognize either of the angry men tossing around their fists. His first thought screamed of Shiro, because it would be just his luck. Every instinct was telling him to protect Shiro right now, even though Shiro wasn’t in danger.

But of course, Keith should know better then to doubt his instincts. In the next second, the two angry men are being pushed apart by a few other people. In a flash of silver and blue the men are being held away from eachother. Of course, it’s Shiro and Lance who have come to play hero. Lance is pushing one man back by his chest, while Shiro is holding the other back by his arms.

Keiths body is on edge the second his friends step into eyesight, and he’s already running across the dance floor when his fears are realized. The man being pushed back by Lance, suddenly grabs the him by the front of his dark blue tank top, and flips him, back hitting hard against the floor. Keith rushes forward, pushing through the crowd of people who have chosen to just stare in amazement. Lance is out on the ground and Keiths heart is pounding in his lungs as he runs. He watches Shiro flinch in surprise at Lances takedown, and the fighter he’s holding takes that to his advantage, breaking free from Shiro’s grasp and reeling his arm back to punch Shiro square in the face.

Keith doesn’t get there soon enough. Shiro sprawls to his knees on the floor, blood gushing from his nose and lip. Keith can feel his blood boiling in his veins as he reaches Shiro just after the hit is delivered.

His run slides to a stop right in front of Shiro’s attacker, and without hesitation he send’s his fist slamming directly into the guys jaw. He stumbles back, and Keith doesn’t waste time to strike again, this time swinging his leg in a harsh roundhouse kick, heel punching in the center of the guys chest, sending him to the floor. The man tries to sit back up, but his face is met with Keiths boot. He falls back down and stays down.

Keith huffs in a deep breath, hands on his hips as he tries to steady himself. He glances up, to see if he has to deal with Lances attacker as well but is happily surprised to see Pidge of all people standing above the other man with a wicked grin and bruised knuckles.

Keith rushes back to help Shiro while Pidge busies herself with helping Lance, and Matt gets some help dealing with the brawlers.

“Seriously?” Keith tries to joke as he kneels down beside Shiro. “I thought I told you to stay out of trouble” he mockingly scolds Shiro, trying to ease the tension in the room as he helps the man sit up straight. Then there’s cold gray eyes locking onto his own, and every emotion runs right out of his body and only concern remains.

“You got a first aid kit back at your camp?” He asks, and Shiro nods hesitantly, human hand carefully gripping at his bloodied face.

“Then let’s get back there and I’ll take care of you” He suggests, although it’s not really a suggestion, more like set in stone. He laces an arm under Shiro’s, wrapping it behind those broad shoulders to give him some support as they stand. Shiro leans towards his as they walk, and it certainly doesn’t make things easy considering how heavy the older man is, but it doesn’t stop Shiro. He’s tempted to just toss Shiro into his arms like a princess, and he probably could, but he wouldn’t be able to walk very long or very far like that. Besides, Shiro’s not that hurt. He can still walk on his own, Keith probably doesn’t even need to support him, but he wants to, so he is.

Together they stumble silently across the campgrounds until they reach the little area designated for the Voltron club. Keith looks around for Shiro’s iconic black lion bike, and when he finds it, he’s surprised to find it parked outside a mini camper.

“That yours?” He asks, just to be sure. Shiro nods weakly and continues walking, moving Keith with him towards the camper. Keith pulls open the door, and steps inside first, so he can extend a hand and help pull Shiro up the little step.

The inside of the camper surprises him a bit. It’s small, but it’s roomy. It’s well designed, with lots of storage and amenities. There’s a small built in table with booth seats to the right, really only big enough for two people. There’s a door right in the middle of the space, facing you when you first walk in, and Keith imagines it’s a small bathroom. Then to the right is a small kitchen area, on the same wall as the door. It’s not much. A sink, a bit of counter space and a two-burner stove, and a little built in ice chest across from it. There’s built-in cabinets all around. Furthest to the right, right after the little kitchen is what would classify as the bedroom. A queen-sized bed sits right in the middle, a built-in night stand on either side, and built in closet space above. It’s small and compact but very suitable for camping. Keith thinks it’s pretty neat. As much as he does love the traditional camping style of a tent, he can see the convenience behind this little trailer.

“There’s a first aid kit in there I think” Shiro points to one of the built-in shelves above the sink. Keith sets Shiro down at the edge of the bed before going for it. He has to stretch a bit to reach it, but he does find it. It’s not much, but it’s the basics. It at least has gauze and disinfectant alcohol pads and Band-Aids. He really doesn’t need much anyway, just enough to stop the bleeding and then clean it up. He collects what he needs from the kit before joining Shiro at the end of the bed.

He has to sit rather close to him, leaning in perhaps a bit more then he needs to, one hand gently holding onto Shiro’s jaw to steady him as his dominant hand works away. The damage isnt really that bad, and it doesn’t really take long to clean him up. Shiro keeps his eyes shut the whole time, and Keith try’s his best to concentrate on the injuries rather then Shiro himself.

“There. All better” Keith announces as he wipes the last bit of blood from Shiro’s lip. He leans up to toss the bloodied gauze and pads away in the plastic bag Shiro seems to be using as a trash on the counter. When he settles back down on the bed, Shiro’s eyes are open again, and he watches carefully as he closes up the kit.

“Not yet” Shiro corrects him, and in the next second, Keiths hands are being enveloped in Shiro’s. His right hand gets pulled up towards Shiro’s mouth, and then Keith watches in absolute amazement as Shiro kisses his bruised knuckles.

“Now it’s all better” Shiro adds, and Keith is powerless to stop the grin that pulls up on his lips.

“All better” He agrees, shuffling closer to Shiro. He wants to kiss him. Wants to kiss him so badly. Wants to tell him what an idiot he is for getting involved with that fight. But he can’t seem to do it.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved” Shiro mutters quietly, reflecting his own thoughts while holding Keiths hands close to his chest. Keith frowns. “Neither should you, but you did” Keith juts back, and he sighs when Shiro doesn’t say anything in response. “I only got involved because you did. I wasn’t going to stand there and watch that guy hurt you” Still Shiro says nothing, so Keith breaks his hands away to cup Shiro’s face and turn it so he has no choice but to look directly at him.

“I wasn’t going to just let him bring you to your knees, Okay, Shiro? That’s my job” he tries joking again, but this time it works, judging by the little chuckle he gets out of Shiro for it. He learns forward, a smile plastered to his lips, and pressed a kiss to Shiro’s forehead.

“Stay with me?” Finally, Shiro answers him, but it has nothing to do with their conversation. It’s a plea, in every form of the word. Shiro begs him with his eyes, with the tenderness of his voice, and it shocks him down to his core.

 

 

Keith couldn’t possibly say no to Shiro. Not like that anyway. That’s how they ended up in the camper bed. Peacefully curled up around eachother, Keith happily sleeping in Shiro’s arms.

It doesn’t last too long though. He doesn’t know how many hours exactly they actually slept. However long it was, was still a blessing. Considering his previous track record, he’s surprised it’s taken him this long for his nightmares to catch up to him.

He doesn’t remember exactly what it was he saw in his dreams. He remembers a dark room, with purple lights. He remembers threatening yellow eyes and claws ripping into his flesh. That’s why he wakes up in such a start. Bolting right up in bed, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead as he pants. The air feels trapped in his lungs and he can’t even feel his heart beating in his chest. He feels so empty. So empty and everything still looks so dark and then suddenly he’s warm. Something wraps around his waist and it feels hot and comfortable and safe. Little bits of warmth starts to rain down over his skin, chasing away that empty feeling that gnaws away in his gut.

“Baby? Can you hear me? You’re okay, I’ve got you” There’s a voice. A voice swimming around in his head. Hot air floats around his neck and it anchors him down.

“I’ve got you.  I am right here. You’re okay. Breath. Just breath” so he does. He listens to the voice and he does his best to breath. Trying to force the air in and out of his lungs but it’s hard. It takes him a couple minutes before he starts to feel his heart thumping in his chest again.

“That’s it. You’re okay. Just keeping breathing. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you” The voice is Shiro. His breath is hot and right against his ear, he breaths in time with Keith, trying to get him to focus on the patter. The hot, safe feeling around his waist is Shiro’s arm, and those pecks of warmth he felt over his shoulders must have been Shiro trying to calm him down with kisses.

“Shiro?” He breaths out, and it’s barely even a word but it comes across anyway.

“I am right here” He’s answered with a gentle kiss to his shoulder, and he lets out another deep, shaky breath. They’re silent for a few minutes after that, Keith just leaning back into Shiro’s chest, trying to catch his breath while Shiro continues to shower him in warmth.

“Feeling better?” Shiro finally asks when Keith seems to have his breath under control again.

“Yeah thanks…” He hesitates before looking up at Shiro with as much of a smile as he can muster “Wasn’t I supposed to be taking care of you?” He asks, trying to hide his embarrassment with amusement. Now that the fear and panic of his nightmare has settled and vanished, he’s now fully mortified that Shiro had to deal with one of his night terrors as if he were some kind of child.

“I see no reason we can’t take care of each-other?” Shiro proposes in complete sincerity, smiling down softly at Keith. He means it. He can hear it in his voice, and he can see it in the way those silver eyes look over him with such concern. Shiro is genuine in this. He doesn’t mind taking care of Keith. He wants to take care of Keith.

His body feels overwhelmed with warmth and his skin strangely but wonderfully tingles in every spot that's connected to Shiro. Something in his stomach knots, and his heart feels like it’s screaming at him and he doesn’t know what to do with this feeling. It's too much and yet simultaneously not enough. This bizarre feeling of content wrestling with raw need engulfs his being and his brain and heart just go absolutely haywire at the simple idea of Shiro wanting to care for him. 

“Keith” He suddenly blurts out; the words fall off his tongue before he can even realize what he’s saying but it felt like the right thing to say. It was the only thing he could say. It was the only thing that felt like a real answer to Shiro's question. 

“What?” Shiro asks, but only slightly in confusion, eyes glinting as he seems to come to a slow and happy realization, a smile breaks uncontrollably on his lips, but he waits patiently for Keith to say what he wants to hear.

“Keith” He repeats, suddenly feeling a bit more confidence in his decision as he surges forward. “My name is Keith”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Anyway! I hate myself and this chapter:  
> 1\. This was supposed to be posted like WEEKS ago. But life sucks and I had like 0 motivation for a while but ayeee we back and hopefully we stay back. 
> 
> 2\. Several times while trying to write for this AU i ended up writing for a different AU. I hate myself for having such a short freaking attention span and I apologize to you all for it cause it means this chapter took longer. Oops. Someone please freaking kick me though. I have like 11 fucking Sheith AUS stashed away in my goddamn notes. I am a mess. I need to be stopped. Someome please stop me (though one is really relevant to season 6 and I may or may not start posting it in a few months if I can get my life to-fucking-gether).
> 
> 3\. This.chapter. was supposed. to.be. smutt!!!! There was supposed to be heavy making out and grinding on the dance floor. There was going to be Grinding kinda dry humping back at Shiro's camp. I was even contemplating some dick* sucking, maybe a good old fashioned hand job. BUT NO. They just had to be sOFT. Literally the only things that happened in this chapter that were supposed to happen where the fight, Shiro's "why can't we take care of each-other?" line, the nightmare, and learning Keiths name. and none of those, although they happened, happened how they were originally planned. This chapter is not even close to what it originally was and I tried to fix it like 6 times and nothing worked and ugh I am so MAD. This chapter is based off the song in the summary and that Shiro mentions 'Night Moves', by Bob Seger which is basically about exploring sexuality and hook ups and the fun sexier new experiences. SO THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SEXY CHAPTER. Sorry guys. Maybe you'll get that smutt next chapter? Who knows? Not me. Apparently I have no control here. 
> 
> ANYWAY. Hope you guys liked the chapter for the fluff that it ended up being. Feel free to scream at me about this fic, season 6, and sheith in general (Or really just about anything, I am lonely lmao) on tumblr @ https://gaythoughtsandfeelings.tumblr.com/ OR feel free to hit me up for my Discord!


	11. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His nameless lover isnt nameless anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking so long, see the end notes after the chapter for an explanation. Hope you enjoy.

Keith… _Keith..._ he has a name. _Keith._ His name is Keith. _Keith._ Such a simple and plain name but it’s perfect and it fits him. It sounds so good and it feels good on the tip of the tongue. A name Shiro wants to say over and over again in ever context imaginable. It’s a perfect and beautiful name because it’s his name. Keith. _Keith_. His name is Keith. His nameless lover isnt nameless anymore. He finally has a name to go with the man of his dreams. _Keith_. Keith finally gave him a name. He finally gave Shiro his name. Something thats obviously a gesture of trust and intimacy for him. He finally made this big decision and all Shiro can do is smile like an idiot and try to control the butterfly’s running rampant in his stomach.

Keith slams his mouth against Shiro’s in a kiss thats messy and rough and urgent. Shiro kisses him back with as much need even though the sheer force of it makes his lips hurt. Because Keith is choosing this. Keith is touching him, kissing him. Keith is trusting him. Keith is choosing to give Shiro this chance that he was obviously so afraid of before. Shiro is going to saver every last minute of this.

He holds Keith close to him, hands pressing against his bare back, and guiding him when Keith decides to swing himself into Shiro's lap. He deepens the kiss by biting at Shiro’s lower lip, then parting his own to let Shiro's tongue explore.

Shiro’s hands move down to his hips and something about the contact makes Keith gasp in his mouth. He pulls away and they both take a moment to catch their breath. Shiro stares up into those beautiful violet eyes that stare right back at him with contentment and excitement and this tiny hint of vulnerability. After a few seconds Keith leans down to kiss Shiro again. But soft and sweet before gently maneuvering himself to lay down flat on top of Shiro.

Shiro smiles, kisses the top of Keiths head, carefully tucked under his chin now, and secures the position by locking his arms around Keiths waste.

"Go back to sleep, Keith. No more nightmares. I promise" he whispers. Because they’re the only words that seem to make sense to him right now.

 

 

 

\------

 

 

It’s easy for them both to fall back asleep after that, and neither of them wake up again. Sadly however, Shiro is still greeted by a rude awakening the next morning. Sometime around 9am, someone knocks on his camper door. It wakes him, but when he realizes Keith is still comfortably nestled on top of him, he refuses to move. He ignores the sound, instead focusing on rubbing gentle patterns into Keith’s skin. A second later the knocking comes again, and after another moment of silence, the knocking continues. Shiro inwardly groans in frustration, realizing who ever it is, is not going to leave until he answers. So, very carefully, Shiro lifts Keith off of him, and settles him on the bed. He waits a moment, watching carefully to see if he’s woken Keith or not, but Keith only groans silently before rolling onto his side. He sighs with relief, and then trudges to the door, just as they knock again.

“Ulaz?” Shiro gasps in confusion, eyes narrowing and eyebrows drawing together as he stares down at the man. He had expected it to be Matt, maybe Lance or Pidge or any other member of Voltron. The absolute last thing he expected to come face to face to when opening his camper door was Ulaz. He didn’t even know that Ulaz was here. Well, he probably should have figured he might be, considering he learned at the poker-run that Ulaz was a blade member. In all honestly, he kind of forgot about that. He probably should have tried to look for his old friend sooner though. What Shiro really didn’t understand though, was why Ulaz would be at his door step so early in the morning.

“Sorry to drag you out of bed so early, Champion. But it’s a matter of importance. My son never returned to his tent last night. We’ve been looking for him all morning. The Rebel leader told me you might know his whereabouts? Have you perchance seen my son around, Shiro? Either last night or this morning?” Ulaz explains and Shiro’s brain starts spinning for answers. Shiro just barely learned that Ulaz even had a son, and he hasn’t met anyone new lately. He doesn’t know what Ulaz’s sons name is or even what he looks like. It’s impossible for Shiro to have any idea where he would be, so why would Matt tell him that? He’s at a loss for words as he looks at Ulaz, unsure of what to tell the Blade, but then he hears gentle foot steps as another body makes itself present behind him, and everything suddenly clicks into place.

“Dad?” Keiths voice is quiet, clouded with sleep and confusion as leans to view out the door. Shiro feels his stomach whither in fear as Ulaz’s eyes flash between the two in the camper door way, and then suddenly zero in on Shiro.

“So, it seems you have seen my son” Ulaz’s words are sharp and precise and they jab right in Shiro’s gut. The hair on the back of his neck begins to stand up, and he can feel his skin begin to flush under the harsh gaze of Keith’s father.

“It’s uh, it’s not what it looks like?” Shiro gulps out through his dried throat but it only seems to make the situation worse. Ulaz raises an eyebrow as his eyes quickly scan the situation again, as if trying to find proof.

“It’s quite alright, Champion. My son’s an adult. He can do as he pleases” the sentence forms slowly on his tongue, as if he’s purposely trying to find the absolute perfect wording.

“Seriously, nothing happened last night Ulaz. Shiro got hurt in a fight, so I came here to bandage him up. I stayed to hang out and it got late, and I got too tired to go back to my tent, so I stayed with him” Ulaz folds his arms over his flannel cladded chest as he looks at his son, knowing that response is almost entirely bullshit, but his son is just as stubborn, and mirrors the same unmoving stance.

“If you’re not going to return to the campsite, please let us know” Ulaz states, locking eyes with Keith who simply nods.

“Please be dressed and meet us in an hour, we do have work to do” It’s a command. An order. No room for argument or negotiation. Keith takes it. Then Ulaz turns to Shiro, and gives him a very curt, emotionless nod. “Champion” He says, and just like that he turns on his heel, and leaves in the opposite direction, probably dying to get away from the awkward situation.

The second Ulaz is out of sight, his son bursts out laughing.

“This isnt funny” Shiro groans, very quickly closing the camper door and turning to look at Keith, who’s now trying to stifle his laugh with a hand to his mouth. “It’s kind of funny” He corrects Shiro, violet eyes glistening with amusement.

“I can’t…. Your dad is Ulaz?” He leans against the little kitchen table with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. Keith’s laughter settles, and he leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest.

“Close enough” He shrugs. “My mom took off shortly after I was born, and my dad died when I was really little. Since my mom was a blade member, and I had no other real family, it was only natural for the gang to take me in. Ulaz and his partner have been raising me since I was a toddler.” Keith confesses to him, and it’s such a deep and intimate topic but he talks about it so casually.

“I am sorry to hear that” He tries to express his condolences, actually understanding the weird experience that is not having your birth parents, but still being raised lovingly by others.

“Don’t be. They’re good parents. They double as drill sergeants sometimes, but they’re good parents” Keiths smile is faint and Shiro knows he means it.

“And that’s all that matter. I was raised by my grandfather” He feels the need to clarify, and Keith nods in silent understanding. “And Ulaz is a good man…He’s the one who found me after my accident and rode with me in the ambulance” Shiro flexes his prosthetic, so Keith knows he’s talking about _the_ accident.

“Tell me about it someday, yeah?” Keith asks and Shiro nods without hesitation. He was prepared to try and talk about it then and there if Keith had asked. But Keith is giving him time. Keith’s giving him comfort and control. Just like Shiro hasn’t pushed Keith for his information, Keith isnt pushing Shiro. He wants Shiro to tell it on his own terms. Shiro’s very thankful for that.

“Now, If I don’t want my dad to hunt and kill us both, I better go get ready and meet him” Keith hums softly, regret and hesitation obvious in his voice as he steps towards Shiro, who frowns at the idea of parting. “I’ll see you around, Champion” Keiths voice practically purrs in his ear as he leans down to kiss him one last time.

 

 

\------ 

 

 

There is no more Keith after that. He leaves quickly, Leaving Shiro to drown his pathetic agony and slight arousal with a very long and very cold shower in his camper bathroom. The shower stall was definitely not made for someone of Shiro’s size. It was cramped, he had to crouch a bit, and he couldn’t move around much, but it got the job done. It was also a hell of a lot better than the camp ground showers, which always had a mile-long line, very little privacy, had at least three spiders in the stall, and there was always a slight chance of either a bird or bat nesting in the rafters above. The more time Shiro spends in his little camper, the more he realizes how well thought out Matts plan was, and the more he considers investing in a full-sized R.V camper. He takes his sweet time after that getting ready. He even stops to call work and check in. It’s a little over an hour by the time Shiro actually leaves his camper.

He takes a quick walk around, looking for Keith but he’s nowhere to be found, so with a bit of disappointment he heads to his second stop; the main grounds, where breakfast is served. Having missed the initial rush, he gets through the line pretty quick, and then happily finds the entire Voltron group, and joins them.

Hunk, Allura and Coran seemed to have been briefed on his so called _‘Scandalous romance’_ , he’s teased for a good twenty minutes before they start probing him for questions (although half the questions are Lance asking Shiro what he sees in Keith, and Shiro consistently ignoring that question). They all seem happy for him, despite the continuous fake gagging displays. Allura and Coran seem a bit pensive, but only because he’s a Blade member. Allura’s father, Alfor, died in an incident similar to Shiro’s. He died at the hands of the Galra. The Blade of Marmora is a club made up almost entirely of people who used to be Galra. By association, it’s not exactly their favorite club.However, underneath all the roasting, they seem to be genuinely happy for him. 

“Shiro!” a good while after they’ve all finished eating, and they’ve just decided to sit around and talk, Matt approaches them with a deep frown on his lips. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news” Matt slides Shiro his phone, showing him a text.

**From Cherry Bomb: _Something came up. Had to leave early. Tell Shiro I said goodbye._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I hate this chapter because yet again I COULDNT GET IT TO DO WHAT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO DO. So the first half is good. Normal. The first have was totally planned. What isnt planned, is basically everything *after Ulaz leaves* originally Keith and Shiro were supposed to make out, then the blades where going to have like sparring lessons and we'd get Keith and Shiro sparring, then a cute little bonfire scene with everyone and yeah. but no. I rewrote it like four times. Four. Times. and it just. did not. work. It wasnt happening. It just. was.not.gonna.happen. So I cut it. I cut it and I skipped to what was supposed to happen at the end of the chapter/begining of next chapter which is Keith leaving again with little warning, and Shiro being angsty and sad about it.   
> I apologize for not being able to follow my own basic plot lines. I am gonna try to make it up to you guys with the next chapter, which should be a pretty good length, and include some good ol' fun smut~   
> Again, sorry for my absence, and sorry for the short chapter.   
> Also-Also. Because my brain is dumb, in between this story and my other stories, when ever I got writers block or couldnt focus, I would end up writing something else to help keep me going and keep my creativity flowing. The first story is a two chapter sheith AU that I will be posting tonight. The other is a multi-chapter short sheith AU that I'll be posting sometime before Friday because it's extremely relevant to season 6 and I've had this one going for a long time and I think it's ready. Sorry about my shit brain but at least you get more content out of it? :/


	12. Is that a yes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has something he wants to ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I am alive! I really want to apologize for my very long and unplanned hiatus. I kinda got wedged in between a rock and a hard place for a while and life wasn't being quite so kind. I also hit a massive writers block where no matter what I tried to write, it always just ended up with me staring at a blank document for two hours before I would give up or I would run out of time.   
> But I am back! I am doing better in terms of motivation and creativity so I am really hoping to ditch the writers block for a while!   
> I hope you guys like the chapter :)

 

Shiro steps into the dimly lit bar somewhere around 12 am. It’s crowded, not so surprisingly, considering it is a Friday night. His eyes wander through all the people and he frowns in disappointment when he doesn’t catch a single glimpse of Keith anywhere.

After the overnighter and Keiths sudden disappearance, Shiro begged Matt for the phone number, but Matt wouldn’t budge. Shiro begged and bribed every mutual friend they had, he even asked Ulaz, and yet no one was willing to give him Keiths number. So, he waited. He waited through one excruciatingly long week of work to take advantage of the one thing Matt would give him.

“The bar where you and Keith officially went at it for the first time? That’s where he works. He’s there almost every weekend.” That’s all he could get but it was good enough for him. It was something, and it was better then nothing.

He got that text from Matt a little less than thirty minutes ago, and the second he read it he was already half way out the door and on his way.  Unfortunately, Keith isn't here. He might be too late. Or too early. Maybe it’s his day off. Who knows. At least there’s a way of finding out instead of wildly guessing now.

He weaves his way through the crowd to the bar, where he slides himself onto an empty stool. He raises his hand a bit to flag down the bartender, who he vaguely recognizes from the camping trip as another blade member.

 

“What can I get for you?” The man asks, sliding in front of Shiro, a knowing grin on his lips.

“Cherry-Bomb” He chokes out, suddenly thrown off guard by the way the bartender is suspiciously eyeing him. “I am looking for Cherry-Bomb” He clarifies, just as a pair of arms slithers over his shoulder to wrap around his neck from behind.

“You looking for me, or the drink?” A familiar voice purrs in his ear, hot breath against his neck making his whole face burn up.

“Both” It’s a miracle he manages to get the word out with how dry his throats gone.

“Two Cherry-Bombs please, Regris” Keith removes his arms from Shiro’s neck to signal the bartender, who just nods and moves away to make the drinks. Keith moves around to Shiro’s side, leaning his back against the bar so he can face him.

“I’ve been waiting for you all week you know. You could have called.” Keith stares at him for a couple seconds, before grumbling something that Shiro almost loses under the sounds of the music and all the people. Plush lips have pulled into a tight frown and a light blush has dusted itself across pale cheeks and Shiro’s heart hammers heavily in his chest at the sight. Keith missed him. Keith missed him, probably just as much as he missed Keith.

“I didn’t have your number, and nobody would give it to me. Trust me I tried. I had no way to find you until about forty minutes ago when Matt told me you worked here.” Shiro tries, and it works enough for Keiths frown to loosen up a bit.

“Matt is having a field day with us” He sighs and turns back to the bar when two glasses filled with a bright red bubbling liquid are pushed towards them. “Thanks. I owe you one, Reg.” Keith takes the glasses, nodding to his friend, before handing one to Shiro.

Shiro takes the signature drink, grips the glass tight and hesitantly brings it to his lips. It’s sweet at first but it burns the hell out of your throat in the most delicious way. It’s strong too. He’s not sure if Regris is just being heavy handed for Keith, or if Cherry-Bombs are really meant to be this heavy on the alcohol. Either way, he completely understands why this is Keith’s drink, and he knocks it back a bit too quickly.

 

“Thirsty?” Keith teases, still sipping away at his while Shiro sets his empty glass down on the bar. He locks eyes with Keith, leaning in a little closer. The newfound warmth and buzz in his stomach gives him an extra boost of confidence as he grins.

“Dehydrated” It makes Keith laugh. It’s a small, barely there, pleased laugh that makes Shiro’s heart flutter in delight. He loves making Keith laugh. Loves making him happy. He’d like to do it more often.

“I just got off. Care to give me a ride home?” Keith asks with a small smile and a bat of his eyelashes and Shiro is already off his seat.

“I would be delighted.”

 

 

 

 

 

Keith apparently lives in a small apartment about a block away from the bar, so he usually walks or runs to work. That gives Shiro the glorious opportunity to drive Keith home, and as Keith swings himself onto Shiro’s bike, settling just behind Shiro himself, he mentally thanks himself for not choosing to take his car earlier because the way Keith presses his chest against Shiro’s back and loops his arms around Shiro’s waist feels like absolute heaven. The way he buries himself into Shiro is a definite ego booster for what he wants to do tonight, because they both know that Keith isn't doing it for safety.

The bad part about driving Keith home is that the ride is literally over in just a few minutes. Keith climbs off the bike after Shiro parks outside his place, and Shiro gets up to walk him up to his door. If he’s going to take Keith home, he’s going to take him all the way home. He’ll soak up every last second of the others company for as long as he can.  

He’s got important plans for Keith though.  Important plans that apparently now include Keith backing him against his apartment door and pulling him down for a harsh kiss. Keiths lips burn against his, soft and desperate and tinted with the slightest taste of cherries and alcohol. He’s so tempted to curl his arms around that thin waist and bust the apartment door down to find a more comfortable surface to take Keith on but a little tiny voice in the back of his head reminds him exactly what he set out to do tonight, and he’s not going to back out of that plan.

“Keith…Keith…Slow down…” He mumbles, his hands do go to Keith’s hips, but only so he can gently move the man off him. Keith is very persistent about chasing Shiro’s lips though, clearly not happy about Shiro breaking away.

“I’ve never been very good at going slow” Keith argues but gives in to Shiro’s request, settling his hands flat over Shiro’s shoulders, a frown settling on his face.

“And I’m not complaining” Shiro emphasizes just how okay with it he is by leaning down to place another soft kiss to those pouting lips. “But I want to talk to you about something”

“any conversation that starts with that sentence has never gone well for me” Keith eyes him suspiciously, so Shiro gives him a reassuring smile, despite the way his gut starts twisting and his palms start sweating.

“Well, I think you might like this conversation.”

“I’m listening then…” He pulls his hands from Shiro’s shoulders to rest them on his hips in a defensive manner. Shiro recognizes it as the start of Keith’s natural fight or flight instinct. Matt told him about that. That Keith is a runner. That Keith runs towards a fight and away from intimacy. Despite Shiro’s warning, Keith is still expecting the worst, and he’s clearly ready to run if he thinks he needs to.  But Shiro doesn’t want Keith to run. He doesn’t want Keith to ever have to run again, so he reaches forward and grabs a hold of Keiths hands to hopefully anchor them both.

 

“I like you” He breaths out quickly, and the straightforward introduction has Keiths eyes wide. “I like you. I like you in a way I haven't liked anybody…well, probably ever. And that scares the ever-loving shit out of me because I haven't been with anyone in a serious way in a long time, and I mean a really long time. I actually gave up on thinking I could have a good or even normal relationship years ago. Then you came along, and I don’t think my heart has calmed down since. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. You are incredible. I swear I think you might be perfect. So, I really, really do not want to fuck this up.” He gushes, pours it all out in one go, face as red as a brick wall and his heart clogging up his lungs meanwhile Keith just sits there and stares at him eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water.

“I’m trying to ask you out, Keith” He clarifies, when Keith says nothing, only continues to stare at him in dumbstruck awe.  “I want more then making out and grinding like horny teenagers at prom. As much I love that, I want more from you. I don’t want you to be a friend with benefits or a booty call or whatever. I want the full thing. I want all of you. I want to be with you. I want to know you. Even if it is just one tiny little fact at a time, I’ll take it. I just want more of this guessing game of random sexual encounters. Go on a date with me? That’s all I am asking for, one chance, just one actual date. Let me prove to you I can give you more” Keith pulls his hands out of Shiro’s as his expression of awe and confusion quickly fades away into a pure blank expression that sends Shiro panicking. He would have liked anything better. Happiness or excitement, preferably. But sadness, anger, disgust, fear, anything would have been better then the sheer nothingness that stares back at him.

“Keith… I need an answer…” Keith snaps back to life and quickly looks away, refusing to look Shiro in the eye as he contemplates. “Do you… Do you want some time to think about it? You don’t have to tell me now…” Honestly pushing away the answer is probably more for his benefit then Keiths. He knew there was a possibility that he’d receive a ‘No’ but he honestly just underestimated how devastated he’d actually be if he was turned down.

“Shiro…” Keith sighs, and he starts bracing himself for rejection. “Before I say yes, I gotta warn you…” Shiro’s heart stops beating. It’s completely still and frozen in his chest as Keith looks back up at him with a playful grin. “I am a dangerous man” He teases, and Shiro’s heart goes from unmoving to exploding as he realizes what Keiths doing. He’s referencing a song, and not just any song. The same song Shiro quoted for him when he had him pinned in a utility closet at the Rebel club-house.

“What?” He lets out a short laugh, to disguise the worried breath he had been holding. “You gonna tell me that you’ve been fighting the law since you were 17?” He goes along with it, completely giddy with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as the song plays itself in the depths of his mind.

“Try seven” Keith laughs, and those beautiful violet eyes sparkle with amusement, gleaming with a brightness that would put the stars to shame.

“You know, I think we skipped a crucial part of the song.” He jokes back, but Keith only shrugs “It seemed fitting. Besides, you already twisted the lyrics.”

“It seemed fitting” He reiterates, taking a step closer to Keith. “So, can you say yes now?” Keith snickers at Shiro’s playful impatience, but steps in to help close the distance between them.

“Yes, Shiro. I would love to go on a date with you.” There’s no controlling his grin now, not as he mentally cheers himself on for the victory.

“You pick me up, here, tomorrow. six pm. Don’t you be late, and you better show me a good time.” He points an accusing finger at Shiro’s broad chest, but the threat is half-assed, buried and lost under the laughter lingering in Keiths throat.

“Yes Sir” He nods, happily agreeing. Keith grins, leaning in for a kiss that Shiro is eager to welcome, except, Keiths lips don’t land on his, they land on Shiro’s cheek instead.

“I’d invite you in, but if I did… Well, then there’d be less to look forward to tomorrow” He hums into Shiro’s ear, quietly, as if it were a secret, before pulling away and taking a step back.

 

 “Good Night.” He reaches past him, to unlock and pull open his front door, casually knocking away a dumbfounded Shiro.

 

“Good Night, Keith. I’ll see you tomorrow…”

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know it's short, but that's because the next one is excruciatingly long. I am half way through writing it, and it's already just a tad longer then this one. There will be a lot going on next chapter, so I thought it best to keep this one clean and simple.   
> Please let me know what you think, Your comments are all always so positive and helpful and they always make my day a hundred times better!   
> Since this story is technically a series of certain interactions in this universe, feel free to request stuff! If there's anything you want to see from me, I am always open to ideas!   
> Your also always welcome to come talk to me over on tumblr @ https://gaythoughtsandfeelings.tumblr.com/   
> See ya'll real soon :)


	13. The First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited first date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to look at those end notes

“Matt! Matt I am serious! Will you please just help me!” He sighs into the phone, struggling to get his words in over Matt’s snickering.

“Matt, Please… I need help” He lowers his voice, and finally Matt stops laughing.

“I am sorry, I am sorry… But you seriously think you need help…with Shiro?” he rephrases Keiths question, amusement still bubbling in his throat.

“Yes!”

“Dude” Matt huffs, and Keith can picture those amber eyes rolling in annoyance. “Shiro is fucking smitten with you. You have literally nothing to worry about” He slumps down on the edge of his bed, completley ignoring Matts advice.

“I can’t remember the last time I went on a date! What if I fuck it up? What do I wear? I don’t even know where he’s taking me!” He complains, only for Matt to take in a very deep breath.

“Keith. Dude. Listen to me.”  Matts voice gets very stern and Keith snaps his lips shut and stays silent, so Matt continues. “Shiro has been enamored with you from the second you slid into his field of vision, alright. There is literally nothing you could do that would convince him you’re anything short of perfect-“Before Matt can get another word in Keith snaps.

“But I am not perfect! That’s why I am worried!”

“Keith, let me finish! Geez. Okay. No body is perfect, Idiot. Shiro knows that. He knows that you arent perfect. What he thinks you are is perfect for him” Keith definitely shuts up after that.

“The two of you are practically already dating, with the way you act around eachother. He’s just trying to make it official. If it makes you feel better, he hasn’t stopped panic texting me since he asked you out yesterday. He’s just as worried as you are” Keiths heart thuds harshly in his chest, his throat goes dry and his grip on the cellphone tightens.

“See? So you need to calm down. It’s impossible for this date to go wrong. So start getting ready, Knowing Shiro, he’ll be there early.”

“Okay, yeah. You’re right. What do I wear though…? I don’t even know where he’s taking me? How do I know what’s date wear appropriate?” He sighs, looking towards his rather plain closet. It’s not like he has many options. But what if Shiro plans to take him to a really fancy restaurant.

“I don’t know where he’s taking you. But I know his usual routine for dates is just a movie if he’s still testing the waters with them, and dinner with a movie if he’s a little more curious or serious about getting with them.” Matt hums, and Keith nods. He hopes he’s a dinner with a movie date. He’s got to be past just a ‘testing the waters’ kind of curiosity, right? Like Matt said, this is really just a formality. They’ve already breached a lot of lines that are passed friendly, and Shiro’s admitted he wants to be serious with Keith. It’s got to be dinner with a movie.

But what kind of dinner? “Does Shiro go for fancy restaurants for dates?” he asks, already shuffling this his rather mono-chromatic wardrobe.

“Shiro doesn’t do fancy. He goes for hole-in-the-wall diners.” Matt responds and Keith nods his head as if he’s starting to get an idea of what he should wear.

But he doesn’t. He’s clueless. “Okay. So what do people wear to that kind of date?” Matt groans rather loudly on the other end.

“Okay. Keith. Just dress like you usually do. Wear your docs and your black skinny jeans. Just go for a pair that doesn’t have holes. And a red shirt. He likes the color red on you. Just don’t wear your leather.” Matt instructs, and Keith starts pulling out what he’s told.

“Why can’t I wear my red leather jacket?”

“Because, if you don’t have a jacket on, once you get cold, Shiro will give you his”

But Keith won’t get cold. He knows that. Matt knows that. Keith naturally burns like a furnace. He rarely gets cold.

“Got it, no jacket” he pulls out a red and black flannel instead, because yeah, he wants Shiro’s. He won’t need it. Not really. But does he want it? Does he want that mock copy of Shiro’s embrace? His lingering scent and warmth hanging over Keiths shoulders? The clear sign that Keith is with Shiro? Fuck yeah, he wants that.

“Cool. Is that all? I do have a life outside of being a date councilor to you two.” By ‘life’ Matt is referring to the video game session with Pidge that had to be put on hold for him to help Keith.

“Yeah. Thanks Matt.” He should be fine without the help. Even though hearing his friends voice is calming, he really should focus on getting ready now anyway.

“Don’t forget to text me. I want details! But not the gross kind!” Matt reminds him before hanging up the call with a loud click. He tosses his phone on his bed and hurries to get dressed. He adds a black tank top under the flannel so that he can leave it open, and he rolls up the sleeves out of habit.

It takes him five minutes to brush his hair, only to give up and decide to wrangle it back in a low ponytail. That isnt even fully effective, as some of the stands up front fall loose to frame his face. He doesn’t bother fixing it, and just leaves it there. The bathroom is still hot and steamed up from the hour and a half shower he took before calling Matt. And despite being perfectly scrubbed clean, he still rolls on the deodorant and sprays a bit of cologne because he is taking absolute zero chances when it comes to Shiro. He wants to make this as perfect as he can.

He tries to check himself out in the fogged-up mirror. But to his own eyes, he doesn’t look much different then he usually does. He sees the same, pale, ordinary body that he always does. He doesn’t look anything special. But then again, Shiro’s made it clear that he likes the way Keith looks. He’s not quite sure why, but he likes it. So there must be something he sees that Keith doesn’t.

He leaves the bathroom, and just as he goes to check the time on his phone, there’s a loud knock at the front door.

 

Shiro is fifteen minutes earlier.

 

“Wow… I.. Hi?” Shiro sputters out a lot of soft, strangled words when he opens the door. Keith doesn’t really catch any of but the greeting. “Hey. You’re early.”

“I know…” Shiro clears his throat. Keith watches as his hand goes up to awkwardly rub at the back of his neck. Shiro looks so sweet and bashful. A total clash to his outfit. Thick black leather boots, dark jeans, a gray t-shirt and his Voltron M.C Jacket. To most people, he probably looks really intimidating.

“It’s okay. I am ready to go now.” Shiro gives him a small, awkward smile, and just slightly sticks his elbow out for Keith to grab onto. He makes sure he has his wallet and his phone before stepping out of his apartment, locking the door, and gripping onto Shiro’s bicep. He’s led down to the parking lot, and to an unfamiliar silver truck.

“No bike tonight?”  He asks, “No, Not tonight” Shiro shakes his head as he opens up the passenger door for Keith. The truck is lifted. So Keith has to grip onto the door and the safety handle to practically launch himself into the seat. Shiro closes the door behind him and goes around to the other side. He slides into the driver’s seat in one swift movement that Keith finds unfair.

He clips his seat belt in, and then sends a quick text to Matt to let him know that Shiro has picked him up.

It’s silent for a few minutes, and Keith is quickly becoming hyper aware of everything around him as Shiro drives. He hears a led zeppelin song humming from the radio, quiet and subtle beneath the sounds of traffic. He notices the way Shiro’s metal hand grips the steering wheel of the car so tightly it might snap, in contrast to his human hand that’s so care free and relax, thumping his fingers against the wheel to the tune of the song. Shiro’s lips look soft and almost shiny as he mouths the lyrics. He notices all the patches on his jacket that he hadn’t before. Before, he had really only noticed the name ‘Champion’ spelled out in cursive on the left breast pocket. He didn’t catch the words ‘President and Founder’ written in small white letters beneath it. He didn’t notice the few yearly patched at the bottom that show how long he’s been with he club. He’s never gotten a full look of the Lion with the rainbow main he knows is on the back, and he can’t wait to fully admire it. He also didn’t realize Shiro had a rebel coalition patch to show case the M.C’s official alliances. For a second, he wonders what that Jacket would look like with a Blade patch.

“You can change the radio if you’d like” Shiro is the first to break the silence, and Keiths attention span. “Lance says I have shit taste in music.”

“I like this song. Lance tells me the same thing. I am guessing you stick to the classics?” It’s not that Lance doesn’t like or appreciate the classics. It’s just that he prefers newer and modern music and gets a little frustrated with Keiths lack of knowledge when it comes to recent music.

“Yeah. Lance keeps trying to make me new playlists. I still prefer the old stuff.”

Lance doesn’t do that for him. Probably because Lance loves to pretend that he hates Keith.

“I bet Lance tried to tell you that you’ve got shit taste in men too, huh?” He jokes, because there is no way that Sharpshooter would ever let one of his friends date Keith, at least, he wouldn’t be silent about it.

“Actually, yeah, he did” Shiro laughs and it’s…wow… Shiro’s laugh was like a bubble. Light and airy. Fun and playful. You can’t help but want more. “He tried to tell me that I was crazy too. And in a way, he wasn’t wrong.” Keith’s heart would be shattering right now, if it wasn’t for the way Shiro removes his right hand from the wheel and reaches to grip at Keiths.

“I used to have pretty bad taste in men, and in relationships. But after one too many bad ones, I think I’ve got the algorithm for finding the perfect one down. And I am absolutely crazy about you” Keith watches in bewilderment as Shiro pulls his hand up to kiss the back of it. Shiro’s lips are so soft and gentle against his skin.

“That was…” His face is burning as Shiro sets their hands back down in the space between them. “That was so fucking cheesy” He huffs, but Shiro only gives him a fond smile, and rubs his thumb over Keith’s hand.

“Laying it on thick before we even get there huh?” He teases, because well, it worked on him. “Oh yeah, I need this date to go well. I am taken every opprotunity I can get.” Shiro teases back, with a slight squeeze of Keiths hand.

“Where are we going anyway?” If that conversation had kept going, Keiths heart would surely explode.

“It’s a surprise” Shiro hums. At the same time his phone buzzes in his lap.

**So what’s the verdict? Are you dinner material or nah?**

It’s Matt. He’s probably worried about Keith. Well worried about the fact that he’s been trying months to get him and Shiro together and the times finally come, and he’s worried one of them will somehow fuck it up. He might not have worried earlier, but now that the defining moment is upon them, he’s probably getting nervous.

He doesn’t dare untwine his hand from Shiro’s, so he responds with one hand, relaying the ‘it’s a surprise to’ to Matt.

**That… is very sketchy**

**Pidge says that totally means Shiro is gonna take you to the woods to kill you**

He receives to messages back almost instantly, and he can’t help but snort at the words that form on the screen. Keith doubts that Shiro could even raise his voice at Keith, let alone try to kill him.

“Hey, Shiro?” He earns a hum in response, and glance of warm brown eyes. “Just to ease The Holts worrying, you’re not planning on murdering me in the woods, right?”

Shiro’s eyes go wide and he gives a short, shocked laugh.

“No” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I have no intentions of murdering you tonight. Or ever. I am not stupid enough to try and take you on.”

It’s Keiths turn to laugh. “Do I detect a hint of fear there, Champion?” Theoretically, If a fight did go down between the two of them, Keith could without a doubt hold his own. He didn’t spend half his life mastering several different types of martial arts not to be able to protect himself. However, From the legends he’s heard, winning a fight with Shiro wouldn’t be easy. He’s ‘The Champion’ for good reason.

“To be fair, I’ve watched you take down men the same size as me with incredible ease. I think I have a very valid fear.” He almost forgets that their holding hands till Shiro squeezes it again.

“Arent you a one-percenter?” Keith narrows his eyes at Shiro. Yeah, the guy at the bar that night was about Shiro’s size, but that guy was nothing but useless walking meat. He had no real threat to him. His muscles were all for show. Of course, he wasn’t a problem for Keith. The guys at the over night were about Shiro’s size too. They were more threatening, but they were drunk. They didn’t have coherent thought, running just off anger and confusion. It’s easy to take out somehow who has no idea what they’re doing. Shiro? Shiro’s got a past to him. A dangerous past. He’s technically a one-percenter. Matt never told him how, but he’s got the label. Shiro is nothing to scoff at. It’s hard to believe, what with the way he touches and looks at Keith. But Shiro is certified danger. Not that Keith is judging.

“Arent you?” Shiro spins the question right back around to him, and he shrugs.

“Who ratted me out?” He asks. Not a lot of people know about his status as a one-percenter. The Blade of Marmora uses that term pretty differently. Considering most of its members are ex-galra, and The Galran Empire M.C is one of the largest and nastiest One-Percenter clubs out there, the label just kind of followed them over. Blades don’t label their one-percenters with patches, but everyone amongst the club knows who is. Outside the club, only Keiths friends know about his status.

“Lance. It was one of his leading points as to why I shouldn’t date you. Apparently, no one told him I was one too.” Keith scoffs under his breath because of course, Lance would do that.

“Oh” Keith is about to say something, but whatever comeback he had dies on his tongue, and he completely forgets how to use words as he edges forward. “Oh wow” He gasps, staring out the windshield at the bright, colorful neon lights in the closing distance.

 

“Almost there” Shiro grins, obviously pleased with Keiths reaction.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He whips his head to look at Shiro, when it clicks in his head where they’re dating is going to take place.

“Nope” Shiro turns into the parking lot, and he lets go of Keith's hand to reach for his wallet, so he can pay the parking fee. Keith barely pays attention, he barely even registers when they park, far too busy admiring the sight out the window. The second he realizes the car has fully stopped and parked, he unclips his seat belt, and scrambles out.

“Matt said you usually do movie in a dinner?” He’s completely astonished. This is… This is definitely not a dinner or a movie. It is so much better.

“Usually” Shiro laughs, stepping out of the car and over to Keith. “but you’re not a normal date. It took me forever to think of something worthy for you. I put together every last thing I knew about you and ended up with this idea. I am guessing you like it?” Shiro smiles down at him with the softest, most hopeful look he’s ever seen and in that second, with those words and that smile, he snaps.

He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck and yanking him down for a kiss. Shiro doesn’t even get a chance to kiss back before Keith is pulling away, realizing that making out in the parking lot is not the ideal way to start a date.

“I fucking love it” He slides his hand back down to Shiro’s so he can grip it tight. Poor Shiro barely has enough time to lock his truck before Keith is tugging him towards the gates of the amusement park.

 

Shiro pays for the passage to get inside, and once they’re beyond those gates, all Keith can do is stare at everything in absolute wonder. He’s always wanted to come here. His parents would never bring him. Then once he was old enough to go by himself, he couldn’t get anyone to go with him, and this wasn’t the kind of place you went alone. He went to a little street fair once when he was maybe twelve, but that was nothing compared to this. This place might not be Disney Land or Universal studios. It’s just a local amusement park, a thirty-minute drive, a couple towns over, but it’s a decent size and it’s medieval themed which gives way for some cool ride designs. Shiro bringing him here is just… just perfect.

“Did you eat dinner?” Shiro tugs on Keiths hand, just lightly enough to pull Keiths attention back down to earth. His stomach comes back with him, making a loud, annoyed grumbling in answer. He hadnt eaten since breakfast early that morning. He stomach had been too twisted with nerves after that to want to eat, until now, it seems.

“I thought you’d be taking me dinner, so no.” Keith shrugs lightly, giving a less embarrassing excuse and a bashful smile.

“Lets get something to eat while you decide what you want to ride first.” Shiro guides him through the crowds of people and loud noises, following the scent of grease and sugar. Keith examines every ride they pass. Ranking them on the possibility of speed and fun and how long it would take to wait in line. Through their shared meal of pizza and French fries Keith tells Shiro how he’s always wanted to be here, and Shiro tells stories of coming her as a child and as a teenager. Apparently, this is one of Shiro’s favorite places. He hasn’t been here in a long time, he says he feels a bit too old for it, but it holds  a lot of precious memories for him. Immediately Keith changes his game plan.

 

“So, what do you want to go on first?” They throw their trash away and Shiro reaches for Keith’s hand once again, ready to let Keith lead them wherever he’d like. He definitely knows what he wants to ride first. He knows what he wants to go on second and third and fourth as well. He’s calculated the perfect list so that he can optimize the fun and excitement from the rides. But this date isnt just about him, now is it?

“Why don’t you pick?” He offers to let Shiro lead them instead, “What was your favorite ride when you were younger?” He asks. Shiro’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. He clearly wasn’t expecting that option, but he sure was thrilled by it. He starts tugging Keith across the park without hesitation, oddly enough, to the very ride Keith was going to suggest first.

It’s called ‘The Fire Ball’ and it’s just one big loop that rocket launches you around.

“I used to love this one, but I never got to go on it because Matt through up every time we tried.” They get the long line for the ride, and together they stare up in amusement at the red, yellow and orange lights that blink all around the hoop.

“This is what I was going to suggest” He assures Shiro that he is more then okay with this choice. They wait in line for a good ten minutes, but it’s not that bad of a wait. Not when Shiro is laughing and telling him funny stories all while holding tight on his hand. It’s not so bad when the other people in line around them clearly eye shiro, only to catch sight of Keith and their intertwined grip and suddenly turn away. It’s definitely worth the wait too, when they finally get up to the front gate, and they are called up to the platform. They’re single person seats, so Shiro gets to sit behind Keith.

“You ready?” He calls up to his date, but Keith only grins. “Hell, yeah I am” He cheers. They are warned to keep close to their seat, and an employee comes around to check that they’re properly strapped in. Then they’re off. It blasts off fast. Sending them flying around the loop. It goes around a couple times. Then it stops and dangles them upside down, just for a few seconds, then rushes backwards in the opposite direction. It goes by so fast, and in just a few minutes the ride is over and they’re stumbling off the platform through the exit gate together.

“That was awesome!” Keith praises, absolutely loving the rush of speed. Shiro chuckles beside him.

“How about that one next?” Shiro points to a rather large roller coaster on the other side of one of the kids rides. “It’s new. I’ve never been on it before.” He offers. They both shrug and decide to go for it. It’s called ‘The Dragon Slayer’, the ride is a bit shorter then the previous, but the ride is so much better.

The art work painted around it is just amazing. A knight in shining armor fighting off a large, fire breathing dragon that’s painted in gorgeous shades of purples and reds and black. It looks incredible. The ride itself is illuminated by purple, red and white lights. It’s a two-seater ride. So, Keith and Shiro get squeezed together in a seat, but neither of them complain about the close space as they’re buckled in and secured. Shiro moves his arm to drop it around Keith’s shoulders, and Keith welcomes it, happily leaning into his dates side. They wait for the ride to start, blurring out the announcement instructions to stay and their seats and how to get off at the end and what not. The ride starts slowly. Slowly inching forward. Then it starts going up a bit. For a split second, Keith thinks this ride won’t be as cool as he thought. He can’t really see the track from their seats. But then the ride keeps going up. It keeps going and going and going. Then it stops. It just sits there for a moment. Then it drops. Tips over the edge and sends them rushing down a curve. It twists and turns and sends them racing through a maze of track. There’s some more, smaller drops, and one more really large one towards the end. The cold night air breaks against his skin, turning his cheeks red and the breath in his lungs gets knocked out as he hollers in excitement. The ride comes to an abrupt stop after a good five or so minutes and they laugh purely of joy as they climb out of the seat together and exit.

After that they take turns picking rides. They go on ‘The Crown’, that swing set ride that hoists your really high into the air and spins you around really fast. They go on ‘The Crumbling Castle’ which is one of those tower rides that they strap you onto, and it lifts you really high into the air before dropping you down really fast. They go on one of those boat rides, meant for big crowds of people at once, it swings you really high through the air. They went on a couple of the smaller roller coasters. They went on the tea-cups rides that spin you around really fast. Shiro even convinced him to go on the bumper cars. They also return to their favorites a couple more times too. Until eventually they decide they need a break from the rides.

Shiro decides instead to support Keiths literally unhealthy curiosity about the different friend desserts the park offers. It starts with just sharing a single funnel cake. A funnel cake with strawberries and cherries and whip cream. A terrible decision on both their hearts because Keith thought it would be a good idea to lick whip cream off his finger while looking Shiro in the eye. Shiro gets him back a bit later after Keith decides he wanted to try both the friend Twinkies and the fired Oreo's. Shiro uses his thumb to wipe at some chocolate sauce at the corner of Keiths mouth, dangerously close to his lips. The look in Shiro’s eyes tells him that his partner is very tempted to drag his thumb over Keith’s lip, and Keith himself is very tempted to let him, but he knows if he does, things will escalate fast, and the date will be over, and they’ll be rushing to find a bed.

 

Instead, they both drown their thirst and wash away all that sugar with a couple water bottles and then Keith insists they go to the arcade next. Shiro laces to their fingers together once again to lead Keith through the maze of rides and people and booths to the very far end of the park where a very large building is sectioned off.

 

Shiro pays to get them each a handful of tokens and they go off. Shiro kicks his ass at the shooting game, but he wins by a land slide in the racing game. Keith is better at Ski-Ball, but Shiro was better at the basketball hoops. They tied at air-hockey. Shiro also has a much better time with the luck-based games that give out random amounts of tickets. Keiths been to arcades before, but not since he was very young, and it’s never been quite as fun as it was with Shiro. They were competitive and yet supportive of each other at the same time. He barely even noticed all the kids and the teenagers that were running around them. He didn’t notice the supervising parents that looked at them oddly. All he saw was Shiro and the pile of tickets they had accumulated.

“I don’t remember things being this expensive…” They run out of tokens, and instead of getting more they settle for just cashing in their tickets for prizes. They had what they thought was a lot. Over a thousand between the two of them. When he was little, a thousand got you one or two of the bigger prizes. Now a single piece of candy is fifty tickets. They couldn’t really get a whole lot. Keith had more sugar today then in the last year, so he skipped over the candy and went for the little toys, so did Shiro.

“Shiro! Look!” Keith pointed to the corner, where there were a couple different plushies form popular franchises. Keith was pointing specifically at the adorable pokemon stuffed animals. They were small ones. Ones that were just a bit bigger then the palm of his hands, but they were so cute. He instantly went for the little Charmander.

“It’s 800 tickets. We can get it” Shiro checks the stand and Keith nods excitedly, playing with the little fuzzy fire tail.

“Can we please?” He asks. He feels a little selfish, asking for one thing that will take up most of there tickets, but Shiro doesn’t seem to mind. He seems fond of the dumb smile gets on his face as he squeezes the pokemon to him. Keith never got to play the video games as a kid. His family couldn’t afford it. But he did watch the show, and he never could forget about the little Charmander that got left in the rain.

“Of course. What do you want to use the other two-hundred for?” Shiro smiles, and gestures for Keith to keep looking through the prizes. They go through the glass cases, looking for things that will easily add up to the remaining tickets. He doesn’t feel like getting a bunch of little stuff, mainly cause to him, most of it’s dumb, little spinner tops and plastic army men and stickers. Things he loved as a child but seemed pointless now. But finally, something caught his eye, and it was too perfect to pass up.

“Those.” Keith pushes his finger on the glass, pointing to a little bowl at the bottom of the of the case. A bowl of miscellaneously colored, metallic plastic rings. One hundred tickets each.

“Good Choice.” Shiro laughs, pressing close behind him as they wait for someone to come over and exchange their tickets for their chosen prizes. Keith gets the Charmander, and a red ring. Shiro gets a black one. It won’t fit on either of their hands though, seeing as they are made for children after all. But they do get tucked safely away in their pockets, so they can figure out what to do with them later.

 

“We should play some of the carnival games?” Shiro points to the rows of booths that are scattered across the park.

“Arent those like, extremely rigged though?” He complains, staring at colorful tents curiously.

“And the arcades ticket conversion system isnt?” Shiro laughs and Keith has to give in to that point. The arcade is seriously rigged. It was so much easier when he was a kid.

Shiro leads him to a couple different games. He pays for both of them to play at each. They do the water shooting one. And the ball toss. And the dart balloon game. And the ring toss. And of course, the strength test. They win prizes at all of them.

Mainly stuffed animals, and they give most of them away to kids that lost. They keep a strange inflatable green alien, that they both agreed should go to pitch. The large stuffed bear Lion that Keith won at the dart toss. And the rubber inflatable sword that Shiro won at the strength test.

“I have a real one of these” Keith laughs when the guy pulls it down to hand over to them.

“You have a sword?” Shiro stares at him with wide curious eyes as they work on deflating it, so it’ll be easier to carry.

“I have several. They were my mom’s.” He admits, and Shiro grins wide. “That’s really cool. Show me sometime?” Keith makes the promise easy. He already has full intentions to bring Shiro home with him, and the swords are kinda hard to miss at home. They’re displayed on his bedroom wall.

 

“One last ride?” Shiro asks. They’ve chosen to sit down on one of the benches for a second. Their prizes sitting proudly next to them. It’s getting late into the night, and the park is about two hours from closing and they’ve agreed they should get out before everyone gets kicked out.

“Sure. You pick.” Keith lets out a quiet yawn. All his excitement and adrenaline have finally died down, and all the running around is starting to get to him.

“I think I know the perfect one…” Shiro stands to his feet in front of Keith, and smiles down at him.

 

“Are you getting cold?” He suddenly asks, his eyes scanning over Keith carefully.

“A little bit?” He lies but Shiro’s already shrugging off his Jacket and there’s no way Keith is going to deny it. It gets dropped around his shoulders and he slips his arms into the sleeves to pull it tighter around him.

It’s as comfortable and warm as he hoped it would be. Just as satisfying too. He hopes some day he could wear the Jacket to an event. It’d be a little hurtful to his own club, maybe. But it’d be a clear sign to everyone. In his world. If you wear someones jacket, you might as well get a collar with their name on it. Keiths perfectly okay with that. He likes the idea of being with Shiro. Likes the idea of making sure others know that he’s with Shiro. There are other ways to do it. Alliance patches. Protection patches. But there’s nothing quite as intimate as the full jacket. Shiro knows that too. He’s well aware of what he’s doing when he grins at Keith and helps him stand and whispers to him “Looks good on you.” They’re both aware of the gesture, and they are both very happy with it.

“Let’s get to that last ride. I think I am about ready for you to take me home.” He grins and thankfully Shiro doesn’t read that the wrong way. He’s not asking for the date to end. He’s asking to extend the date beyond the park.

“This way then.” Shiro picks up the lion and he inflatables, and Keith slips his little Charmander plush into his jacket, squeezing it tight to his chest. Shiro leads the way across the park, close to the entrance, and right to the grand Ferris wheel.

“Seriously?” Keith chuckles as they get in the relatively short line. “Wouldn’t be the complete experience if we didn’t go on the Ferris wheel” He nudges Keiths shoulder as they step forward. They leave their prizes with the friendly operator when it’s their turn, and they crawl into a cart together, sitting opposite each other. The door closes and slowly the wheel rotates, one cart at a time till it’s full. Then it slowly starts going around. Giving them the most wonderful view of the park. Through the glass cage you can see everything. All the rides and the people and the lights. It’s beautiful from up here. Picture perfect chaos.

 

“So.” Shiro pulls attention away from the view to the even better sight of Shiro’s gorgeous bashful smile. “Is our first date a success?” He asks, and Keith can’t help but to snort. Most people don’t ask that, especially not while the date is technically still going.

“Yeah, Shiro. Very successful.” He teases, stretching his legs out so that they intersect with Shiro’s.

“Really?” “Considering most of my dates take place at the bar? Yeah. I think it’s safe to say, this is best first date I’ve ever had” Shiro’s grins and reaches to grab Keiths hands.

“Good enough to get me a second date?” He pulls Keiths hands up to kiss his knuckles and Keith would be lying if he said he wasn’t blushing down to his bones.

“Good enough to get you several, and probably something extra” The date was more then just a success. It was perfect. Shiro shared something personal and special to him, while also giving Keith something he has always wanted but never been able to have. Keith had more fun the last couple hours here with Shiro then he has probably ever, let alone on a date. His absolute favorite thing wasn’t even the rides or the food or the games. His favorite part of the entire night was getting to hear the beautiful and pure laugh of delight Shiro had after each ride ended. That was the best part. Usually the best part of Keiths dates are when it ends, even on better dates, the best part is getting free drinks. This. This was on a whole different level for everything Keith has ever experienced, and it has nothing to do with their location and everything to do with Shiro being himself.

This date gets Shiro more then another date. This date has got enough points for Shiro to do just about anything he wants. He could take Keith right now on the Ferris Wheel and he wouldn’t argue in the slightest. Shiro earned Keith. Whole heartedly. Keith has never wanted anything as badly in his life as he wants Shiro in this moment. He wants Shiro in every way he has to offer.

“Good enough for me to call you mine?” Shiro tacks on exactly what Matt had told him this would be. This date was just to make things official. To official get that label of ‘boyfriends.

“Only if I get to call you mine.” He counters. Shiro smiles. Shiro smiles and Keith can feel it in his soul. Shiro looks at him and just radiates happiness and affection and it shakes him a bit.

“I’ve been yours since you pulled up next to me at that stoplight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANYWAY. SEASON 8 GOT ME ALL KINDS OF FUCKED UP  
> Did I change the date to an amusement park out of spite of season 8's carnival episode? No. The amusement park date has been planned for a long time.   
> Did I extend and add onto the date out of spite of season 8's carnival episode and it's lost sheith potential? Absolutely.   
> Did I cry while writing this? Yes. This chapter was supposed to be dropped before season 8 but my laptop crashed and I lost four pages worth of writing but that worked out.  
> Did I know what the hell I am doing in this chapter? No absolutely not. I hate amusement parks, rides make me sick and I had to rely entirely on my friend B for this chapter, so Keiths charmander is dedicated to them. 
> 
> Terms:   
> -A one per-center is a reference to the idea that most Motorcyclist and club members are normal, good, law abiding citizens. and only 1% are the dangerous delinquents they're portrayed as. One Percenter is a title that can be given to a club or an individual member that's known for getting into/causing violence, fights or trouble.   
> -M.C stands for Motorcycle Club.   
> -A protection patch is a patch or badge M.C members sometimes put on jackets or vests of their Significant others that say 'property of (insert name here) but newer and more progressive usually say 'under protection of (insert name)   
> -A prospect name is a name that's rewarding to you by the members of a club, after you've finished your prospecting aka your initiation/ integration. Prospect names are usually based off of a silly or memorable moment of something you did, or something that happened repeatedly to you.   
> I think that's all I need to explain here, but if there's ever a term you need defined and I don't make it clear enough in the story, feel free to ask.   
> Also, terms can change a bit from club to club. Area to area. Not every M.C works the same way. Different ones due different stuff depending on the area or their history. 
> 
> Want to scream with me about my fics, voltron in general or season 8?   
> Come find me, I am always happy to talk:   
> Tumblr @ Gaythoughtsandfeelings  
> Twitter @UnprovenHuman  
> Discord @MaybeMyth #9607
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this long ass chapter. more coming soon.

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually grew up around a lot of bikers, and I went to a lot of biker events while growing up. They were actually a lot of fun. So anyway. I've never seen a biker au that I actually agree with, and I've never seen any biker au's for Sheith, so uh, yeah. This happened. Mainly cause I could get 1952 vincent black lightening by Richard Thompson out of my head. and one time I accidently misheard 'Red Molly' as 'Red Mullet' and I couldnt stop laughing and yeah, Thus, this fic was born.  
> I hope you like it! Let me know what you think, or let me know if you have anything you want to see in this au! You can also hit me up and talk to me over on tumblr @https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gaythoughtsandfeelings


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